


A Hitchhiker's Guide to Skyrim: Dragonslayer

by Novum_Semita



Series: A Hitchhiker's Guide to Skyrim [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adoption, Adventure & Romance, Elenwen's a Bitch, Evidence, F/F, Family Fluff, Gonna play havoc with the Civil war lore, Living Together, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26073391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novum_Semita/pseuds/Novum_Semita
Summary: Several months have passed since Emily and Serana returned from Earth following the defeat of Miraak and Maylene. The peace that followed was too good to last. Dragon sightings were becoming more common and as Dragonborn it fell to Emily to stop them. But where are they coming from and who is sending them? Only time will tell.
Relationships: Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Serana
Series: A Hitchhiker's Guide to Skyrim [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587040
Comments: 20
Kudos: 56





	1. Prologue

Several months had passed since Emily and Serana crashed through the roof of the Falkreath tavern, straight out of the repurposed flying vehicle driven by the Mad god himself and onto the table of two unsuspecting Nords enjoying a pint of mead. Shortly after returning to Skyrim and their home in the Falkreath forests they sent word to both the mages in Winterhold of their return as well as to the Skaal village in the ashen wastes of Solstheim to let Lydia know that Storn would likely soon be returning and to prepare for her return to Whiterun.

The first few weeks following their return home Emily had sunken into a kind of melancholy. Though she had concluded Maylene to be, in Serana’s words, ‘an evil shrew,’ she could not ignore the fact that it was she who dealt the killing blow. Her death being more or less necessary had not made the decision any easier. She had once loved her. Serana gave her, her space as needed and offered her comfort and soft words. Serana’s way of dealing with grief led her to seek solace in solitude and refrain from talking, even to those closest to her. Emily was in many ways the total opposite. Though she wandered alone from time to time, more often than not her grief caused her to seek the comfort of her vampire lover and to cry. During these times Serana would hold her, murmuring words of consolation as best she could find them. She was also prone to night terrors, thrashing about in the bed which often woke Serana and she could do little but sit by her head and stroke her hair until the shaking subsided and she fell back into restless sleep. Serana would take such measures as she could to try and distract Emily from her thoughts such as nights by the lake and hunting in the forest glens. And at last Emily began to come around.

For several weeks they remained in their Falkreath home, enjoying the quiet their woodland cottage could provide. They made frequent visits to the tavern, whom Emily felt obliged to pay for the damage to the thatching caused by their unplanned visit.

At times they went into the forests to hunt. Elk were a common sight, the majestic monarch of the southern glens. They made for a steady supply of blood and Emily and Serana sold off their pelts to the local Blacksmith and their meat to the tavern. The antlers and eyes they brought back for the use in alchemy experiments.

But at last it was time for Emily to return to High Hrothgar. Dragon sightings were becoming ever more common. She learnt several shouts, delving into various catacombs and climbing frigid peaks to learn the words of power, slaying dragons to acquire their meaning.

It was on a cold night late in First Seed as Emily and Serana sat in the garden under the spreading limbs of the old oak tree that they heard the Greybeards' summons, calling them to return to the monastery.


	2. The Note

"You have shown great promise, Dragonborn," said Master Arngeir as he stood upon the stone platform, overlooking the main hall of High Hrothgar, "Your defeat of Miraak proves that you are ready for your final test." His eyes locked with the Earthling who stood on the flagstones below alongside her vampiric companion. "You must journey to Ustengrav out in the marshes near Morthal," he continued, "From there you must retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder. Deliver it here and we will recognize you fully as Dragonborn."

"Is there anything we should know about Ustengrav?" Emily asked.

"It is an ancient Nordic tomb," Master Arngeir replied, "As such, you can expect the usual threats found in such places. As it is the final resting place of our founder, expect to have your thu'um tested within its walls."

"Thank you, Master Arngeir," Emily said, "We'll leave tonight."

Emily and Serana retired to the sleeping quarters to wait out the day. Each wore a new set of leathers courtesy of Gunmar of the Mourning Sun as their previous sets of armour had been torn to shreds by Miraak and his would-be Queen during their last venture. The armour still chafed slightly and Emily rubbed at the back of her neck as she sat down on the edge of the stone bed. Her blonde hair had grown out once more, hiding the burnt ends and she now sported a scar under her right eye. When Serana had asked her of it as they sat in their woodland home she had merely shrugged her shoulders and said that she could hardly expect to live an eternity and not be marked at least once by the end of it. Then she laughed and added, "Especially with my habit of walking right into the middle of things." This had caused Serana to quirk a smile as her thumb ghosted over the thin pale line.

"It's been a while since we were last on the road," Emily said as she pulled the map from her bag, marking their destination. Serana sat down next to her.

"And one where our biggest threat is a shambling heap of bones and dried out old flesh," Serana added.

"You have such a way with words," said Emily, looking up from the map to meet Serana's gaze. Serana smiled, leaning forwards and planting a kiss on her brow.

"Think there'll be traps?" she asked as she looked back down at the map.

"Almost certainly," replied Emily, "But nothing that we haven't seen before."

"I wonder what kinds of tests there'll be," she continued. Serana shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, those weeks we spent travelling all over Skyrim to find you words of power have to count for something," she replied, "We'll be alright."

"Yeah, you're right," said Emily, "So, looking at this, it'll probably be a two week trip, maybe three if we hit a blizzard at the Bromjunaar Pass which, let's face it, at this time of year looks pretty likely."

***

As Emily had predicted a blizzard struck just as they crested the pass, drastically limiting visibility and making progress slow. They reached the marshes three and a half weeks into their journey. The marshes were no easier to traverse during this time of year. In place of oozing mud there were icy stretches of black ice which were nigh impossible to see even by day and by night they made the way treacherous. The cold weather did little to quell the residents that called the marshes home and, indeed, seemed only to encourage the local Chaurus populace. They encountered two of the beasts shortly after leaving the city walls of Morthal behind. Though their poison had little effect on the undead their jaws were still formidable and quite capable of piercing leather as Emily soon found out when one latched onto her ankle. She yelped, summoning vampiric energies on her palm. The beast's compound eyes were flooded with red light as it was knocked back by the force of the spell. Emily hopped back, conjuring an icy spike which she drove between its jaws which split with a sickening crack. She looked over in time to see Serana bring her boot down on the head of another where it squirmed for several seconds before going limp.

They pushed through the dense bracken that grew at the edges of the frozen puddles, keeping a furtive ear out for any more Chaurus that may be lurking. Serana stopped by a short scraggy bush to wipe the remaining bilious green slime from her boot.

"Those creatures are disgusting," she said, "Remember I told you about the Bosmer in my father's court, Ronthil I think his name was."

"Yeah?" Emily replied as she ducked under a low hanging branch.

"He wanted to keep one of them as a personal pet," she continued, "He felt accomplishing the task of taming it would secure him a place as a beast tamer, fill a niche."

"I can't think of a worse plan," Emily grimaced.

"It backfired on him," Serana replied, "He kept the eggs in the thrall pens, kept it a secret from everyone. We only found out when they tore out the throat of every thrall in the place." Serana hopped over a frozen stream onto an islet, holding her hand out to Emily. Emily took her hand and joined her on the islet.

"How much further?" Serana asked.

"Not far," Emily replied once she had pulled the map from her bag. She opened it and flicked her eyes over it. "We're about here I think." She pointed to the largest islet which made up the Hjaalmarch marshes.

A cluster of stone pillars marked the location of the ancient fane. Emily stopped at the crest of the hillock, her nose catching a scent that was out of place in the frozen wilderness. It was the smell of smoke. She strained her ears to listen and could just faintly make out the snap and crackle of an open fire.

"Looks like we're not alone out here," Serana observed. Her fingers danced over the dagger belted at her hip. Emily nodded, crouching low in the grass as they moved closer to the ancient ruins. They crossed over a frozen stream and fetched up on the far side. As they crested the next hillock they saw the source of the smoke. A small campfire stood before a makeshift lean-to shelter which consisted of little more than a few planks nailed together and set up at an angle to keep off the worst of the wind. Two chairs stood next to the campfire. Each was occupied by a man dressed in the ragged attire commonly worn by bandits. One had the blonde hair and beard of a Nord while the other was elfin in appearance, ashen skinned and dark haired. Emily was about to nock an arrow when Serana stayed her hand, pointing to somewhere a little ways off. Then she spotted them, seated in the gloom, their flowing black robes providing near perfect camouflage. Their appearance put Emily in mind of two vultures by way of the manner in which they watched the two men.

"Necromancers," said Serana under her breath.

"How can you be sure?" Emily asked.

"Few other than necromancers would come to such a remote tomb," Serana replied, "There'd be little of interest out here for a pyromancer or illusionist. Plenty of…subjects out here for them. And besides, Hjaalmarch's history, particularly these marshes, are steeped in necromantic history." Emily turned her attention to the first necromancer, nocking an arrow. The air whistled and the necromancer slumped forwards into the dirt. And just as his body hit the ground the Nord thrall collapsed to the ground, his body dissolving into a fine powder as the spell was broken. The second necromancer was on her feet in an instant. She barked out an order and the elfin thrall joined her hastily, fire dancing on his palms. His red eyes stood out against the gloom and the next second Emily and Serana were forced to abandon their hiding place as a fireball struck the tree they had been standing in front of. The dead tree went up in flames in seconds, providing their attacker with a beacon of light to see his assailants by. Emily conjured a ward as another fireball whirled toward her. It ricocheted off the ward, hurtling back toward its caster. The elfin thrall dodged to one side, rolling into the grass and jumping back to his feet. The necromancer had skirted around the edge of the camp and now burst from the shadows. Serana brought up her dagger in time to meet the blow. Again and again their blades clashed and Emily brought up her ward as a tongue of flame emanated from the dark. It danced over the shimmering wall of light and Emily saw through it the elfin thrall. He was not grinning maniacally as others had when they unleashed their magicks upon the two vampiresses. His expression was one of detachment, a common sight among thralls whose actions are governed solely by those who raised them. But in an instant his expression faltered, as did his flames, as Serana's dagger found its mark. Then both he and the necromancer crumpled to the earth. Serana stooped to clean her blade on the necromancer's robes before turning to Emily.

"I think we'd better watch our steps inside," she said, "These were likely just sentries." Emily nodded and followed her companion up over the stone ridge. On the far side the ground dropped sharply away. A set of stone steps carved into the edge of the fane marked the way down. At the base of the stairs lay the body of another bandit. The blood spattering the barrels and chest behind him indicated a struggle. His weapon, an iron mace, lay at his side.

"Why was this one not raised?" asked Emily.

"Likely his body was too damaged to be of use," said Serana, bending to examine him, "Yes, look, his right arm is broken. He wouldn't be much use to them like this." Emily grimaced as she followed Serana over to the entrance.

Serana pushed the wooden door of the tomb opened and peered inside. The interior was dimly lit and the sounds of pickaxes striking stone reached her ears from deeper into the cavern. Two more dead bandits lined the corridors and Emily followed her inside. Candles sat in the alcoves by the door. She quietly closed the door behind them before following Serana further in. Before long the corridor opened out into a large cavernous space. At the far end of the cavern two more thralls toiled under the supervision of two necromancers. Both Serana and Emily pulled their bows from their backs.

"You take the one on the right," Emily whispered. Serana nodded and they both nocked their arrows. One by one the two necromancers fell and with them fell their thralls. The way was clear and they continued, pausing only to search the bodies of the fallen. Emily found an interesting volume on Blackmarsh which she stowed away in her pack for further reading.

A second stone tunnel led off from the cavern, leading deeper into the catacombs. On the steps a Dunmer necromancer lay slumped. An ancient Nordic arrow was lodged into the base of his skull, leaving little room for guesswork as to the identity of his killer.

"Looks like they woke the entire tomb up with their exploits," Serana noted. They found several more in a similar state and as they reached the bottom of the stone steps they heard the shambling footsteps of a draugr. They peaked around the corner. This draugr looked to be in poor shape, likely as a result of his skirmish with the necromancers. A conjured icy spike brought it to a halt where it slumped to the ground, allowing them to continue unhindered.

The next room they came to was larger than the first and guarded by three draugr. A stone walkway ran overhead. The first of the three draugr swivelled round to face them.

"Unslaad krosis," he growled as he shambled towards them. Emily broke from her place by the door, her lips forming the words.

RII VAAZ ZOL

A purple light erupted from her lips, engulfing the draugr. The effect was immediate as he fell to the ground. But a moment later he rose back to his feet but this time his attention was on his former comrades. Now with the odds stacked against them the battle was a swift, if not fair, one and as the final draugr fell to Serana's blade the draugr Emily had raised with the shout taught to her by the undead dragon of the Soul Cairn, crumpled to the earth, his body turning to ashes.

They followed a stone side corridor that brought them up to the walkway they had spied from the floor below. This in turn brought them to a wrought iron door carved with intricate patterns. Emily pushed it open and peered through. It led on to a set of heavily worn stone stairs. At the base of these a misty blue light shone in through a hole in the cavern wall. Thick roots criss-crossed the opening and through this Emily and Serana could see a cavern whose size dwarfed all those seen previously. Stone pillars held up the vast grey ceiling, preventing the cavern's collapse. The strangest sight of all was the lone pine tree reaching up towards the opening high above them.

"Wow," breathed Emily, "It's like another world, isn't it? A subterranean world."

"Not as inviting as the Ancestor Glade though," Serana added, "It's a little…eerie, isn't it?"

"Just a little," Emily conceded. Movement below caught their eye. Barely noticeable against the grey stonework were slender grey forms. No flesh adorned their old bones and cold blue eyes devoid of feeling and remorse glared out upon the world. Hitting them from this height was out of the question so the two vampiresses left the opening and turned their attention back to the corridor. Lights burned in crevices, throwing out a pale sickly light onto the mossy stones. Rather than bringing comfort it served only to make Emily feel uneasy. She pulled her dagger from her hip as she peered around the corner. She staggered back with a yell as she found herself almost nose to nose with a draugr. He pulled his war axe from his belt and advanced on her, bringing down the bladed weapon. It met her blade halfway and sparks flew from the metal. When it withdrew Emily saw her opening, plunging the dagger into its chest. It let out a guttural outcry as it brought up one hand, icy waves of magic crashing into Emily. She squeezed her eyes shut and held on like grim death. Something whizzed by her head and abruptly the ice ceased and she pulled her dagger from the draugr as he fell. Her hair stuck out at odd angles and there was frost on her nose and eyelashes. She forced her eyes open and looked at the draugr lying prone on the ground.

"Maybe not one of your best strategies, Em," said Serana as she sheathed her blade. Emily shook her head, ruffling her hair to get out the worst of the ice. They continued on down the stone steps. Emily came to a halt as they reached the bottom, putting out a hand to stop Serana.

"What is it?" she asked. In response Emily picked up a battleaxe that was leaning against the wall. She pressed it down onto the panel in front of her, taking an involuntary step back as flames erupted from the holes dotted across the surface.

"Great," said Serana, a hint of sarcasm creeping into her voice. She turned to Emily. "Got any ideas?"

"One," Emily replied, "You remember what Master Arngeir said about this place testing my thu'um?" Serana nodded. "I think I could get across using the whirlwind sprint shout. Perhaps I could carry you across?" Serana folded her arms, quirking a smile at her. "I could," Emily insisted, "Carried you once before, didn't I? And that was after fighting Miraak and getting knocked out trying to get us off that tower."

"Alright, alright," smiled Serana, "But how about a test run first? Without the threat of being burned alive?"

"Fair point," Emily replied. She crossed over to where Serana stood and scooped her up into her arms. Serana could not help but chuckle at the comical image they presented.

"I'm not exactly the tall dashing knight, am I?" said Emily sheepishly as she crossed over to the end of the hallway. Serana looped an arm around her.

"Maybe not tall," she smiled, "But I think you've got the dashing bit down alright. Come on, let's give this a try." Emily nodded. Bracing one foot against the wall, Emily broke into a run. She shouted the first word of the shout and immediately the walls of the corridor raced past them in a blur. She stumbled on the final step, fighting against the sudden drop in speed and bringing her foot down heavily on the flagstones.

"Okay, I think that went well," she said as she looked down at her companion, "You alright there?"

"Can't complain," Serana shrugged her shoulders, "How about we try it for real?" Emily nodded.

She walked with Serana back to the space before the flame pressure plates. Taking a moment to restore the energy required to project her voice into a thu'um she leant forwards, bracing herself against the stone floor.

WULD

The world raced by them and behind them, almost drowned out by the noise of the wind, Emily heard the click of the pressure plate and the whoosh of the flames as they rushed up into the open air behind them. Emily came to a halt and they looked back as the flames died down. Emily set Serana down on the flagstones.

"Phew, let's hope there aren't too many more like that," said Emily, "Gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, 'hot on your heels.'"

The next room they came to looked to be a banqueting hall of sorts though the mouldering bread and rotting paste that had once been fruit permeated the entire room with an odour that did little to encourage the appetite. Emily covered her nose as they moved through the large room, listening out for the sounds of the tomb's usual residents. Serana heard a faint squeaking in the corner and turned in time to see a large rat climb out of one of the earthenware bowls and scuttle along the length of the table.

At last they re-emerged into the large cavern they had spied from the higher point in the catacombs. The deep blue mist hung thicker than ever, making the bottom of the cavern hazy and indistinct. A wind blowing in through the hole in the ceiling above ruffled Emily's hair and carried with it a familiar sound that caused her to prick up her ears, looking sharply down at the bottom of the cave. She could just make out the arched shape of a curved stone ridge.

"I think there's a word wall down there," she said, turning to Serana. They followed a tumbledown stone slab that led down to the middle level. It looked as though it had once supported one of the upper levels judging by its crumbling ends but time and wear had caused it to fall. The air down here smelt fresher, likely owing to the cave's natural ventilation.

"You head down to find that word wall," said Serana as they crossed the flagstone floor, "I'll stay up here and deal with the guards." She gestured over her shoulder to the skeletons milling about between the piles of rubble and empty benches. Emily made for another earthen slope while Serana turned back to the skeletons, readying an ice spike on her hand.

Emily hurried down the dirt slope, dagger drawn and at the ready. But the space at the bottom before the word wall was devoid of unlife. Water gushed down in an endless torrent into a pool and two small pine trees grew up at its edge. Emily cocked her head, listening to the sounds of ice magic overhead. She darted across the stonework, eager to learn what the word wall had in store. The familiar chanting set up as she placed her hand to the stone, absorbing the meaning within the claw-like scratches gouged into the rock. A wind, stronger than the one that blew through the cavern, ruffled through her hair and emblazoned the word, "FEIM," upon her mind. Withdrawing from the word wall, Emily drew her dagger and ran back up the dirt slope. Serana was waiting for her at the top. One hand still swirled with ice magic. Behind her where the scattered bones of the hitherto guardians of the cavern.

"Did you find it?" Serana asked.

"Yeah, I've got it now," Emily replied, gesturing over her shoulder, "But we'll need to find a dragon before I can make use of it."

"Any idea what it does?" Serana asked. Emily shook her head.

"I'm not sure," she replied, "Something to do with fading, that was what the word meant."

"Invisibility?" Serana said.

"Possibly," Emily replied, "Kind of redundant with what you taught me though." Serana smiled.

"Come on, let's go find out what else this tomb has in store," she said. They turned and ran across an earthen bridge which spanned the pit where the word wall stood, still glowing faintly. On the far side they came to a series of iron portcullises. Each was closed and there were no levers in sight. Before the portcullises lay three stones, each waist high and engraved with a swirling pattern.

"There's something funny about these stones, isn't there?" Emily said as she crossed over to them.

"Hilarious," grinned Serana.

"You know what I mean," replied Emily. She stopped as she neared one of the stones and it emitted a pulsing red light as a sound something like the distant chiming of a bell echoed around them. Then there came the sound of metal grating against metal and looked over in time to see one of the portcullises rise up. When she moved away from the stone the red light slowly faded and dimmed. As the last of the light left it the portcullis slammed back down into its holdings. Emily moved to the second stone and it responded much like the first except that the second of the three portcullises opened when it was neared. Serana bent to examine one of the stones.

"These carvings," she said, "Each of them depicts a dragon in flight."

"What's the significance of that?" asked Emily as she joined her by the stone.

"Before the Imperial empire brought the Pantheon of the Eight and One Divines to Skyrim, the ancient Nords had their own gods," Serana explained, "They worshipped totem animals. This likely represents Alduin, the World Eater. Or perhaps Ysmir, the dragon of the North."

"And who are they?" Emily asked, "Alduin and Ysmir."

"Alduin is the dragon god of ancient Nordic myth who comes to eat the world when it is time for it to end," Serana explained, "Ysmir is the god of man, the ancient Nordic version of Talos. From what I've learnt though, Ysmir is also a title which has been bestowed on a few people through the centuries, most notably High King Wulfharth and Pelinal Whitestrake, each heroes in their own right." She paced around one of the stones as she spoke. "Either way, dragons are the original users of the thu'um so I think it's safe to say this is another test."

Emily looked at each of the carved stones and at the portcullises beyond.

"And I've got a fair kind of test," she replied, "I don't think we can do what we did before though. Flame traps are one thing but if I timed those portcullises wrong." She shuddered. "I don't even want to think about that."

"You're talking about going on alone?" asked Serana.

"I might have to," Emily replied, "If there isn't a lever on the far side." They stood in silence for a time, each searching for another solution to the task at hand. But when several minutes passed with no suggestions from either side Serana spoke up.

"I can't see any other way," she said, "I'll wait until your safely through. If there's no lever I'll wait for you at the entrance. Most of these ancient fanes have a tunnel of some kind that loops back to the beginning."

"I promise, I'll be careful," said Emily as she rested a hand on Serana's shoulder. Saying that she turned and stood before the first of the stones which hummed into life. She broke into a run, passing first the second and then the third stone. As she did so she shouted.

WULD NAH KEST

The stone tunnel rushed by in a blur and she heard the metal clang as the three portcullises closed behind her. She turned back to see Serana standing at the first of the portcullises. Emily made a quick search but found no levers or pull chains. She shook her head.

"I'm afraid it looks like it's one way, Sera," she called through, "But, it surely can't be much further…can it?"

"Let's hope not," Serana called back, "I'll wait for you near the entrance, where those necromancers were keeping their thralls." Emily nodded before turning from the portcullis and regarding the stone steps before her. At the top she could see where the corridor opened out. There was a stone brazier burning in the centre of the doorway and thick strands of web ran between the stone walls and the floor. An involuntary shudder ran the length of her spine.

"I hate spiders," she muttered to herself as she began to climb the steps.

The first thing she saw when she reached the top were pressure plates. Row upon row of raised platforms with holes in both the centre and at the four points of the compass. They looked to be of the same design as the ones they had encountered previous, designed to produce jets of flame. Emily gingerly rested her foot on the nearest and pressed down. There was an audible clunk but nothing happened. The trap remained inert. She tried others on the raised dais and found the same result. Steps led down off the dais and as she cast her magelight about she saw more of the pressure plates. Some of these were buried under a metric ton of rubble. This, she surmised, likely explained the broken traps.

Unwilling to take any chances Emily leapt from the dais onto the large mound of rubble, fighting to keep her balance as the loose rocks skittered under her boots. She grabbed onto a large cylindrical rock that had once served to hold up part of the ceiling and found her hands plunging into swathes of sticky web. Fighting waves of revulsion she pulled herself free, grabbing at the sticky strands and pulling them away piece by piece. After rubbing her hands on her leathers she picked her way across the rubble.

As she rounded a corner she caught sight of a dais, much like the one she left. As she watched she spotted something moving. It was low slung to the ground, its abdomen nearly trailing along the ground, held up by eight hairy jointed legs. Its mandibles glistened in what little light there was. She watched it for a few minutes but it gave no indication that it was aware of her presence. Slowly she took her bow from her back and nocked an arrow.

The arrow struck it at the join between the thorax and the abdomen. The spider writhed this way and that, furiously clicking its mandibles. As it turned to face her its mandibles opened in a gurgling screech which made her blood go cold. She nocked another arrow but before she could fire the spider suddenly went rigid. Its legs curled up under it and it rolled over onto its back. Emily waited another minute or two during which time it made no move and when she was satisfied that it was indeed dead she leapt from the rubble onto the dais.

Across the room lay another tunnel. This one was choked with webbing and she took her dagger from her hip, slashing a path through. As it stuck to her hair, her face and her clothes she made a firm resolve to have a bath once they got back to their Falkreath home. A wooden door led onto a small antechamber and the way ahead was blocked by a metal portcullis. A short search revealed a metal pull chain to one side of the portcullis which Emily pulled. As the way ahead cleared she found herself staring down a set of stone steps onto a large chamber. There were large pools of water on either side of the stone path that led down the centre toward what looked to be an altar of some description. Hanging over it were two hawk's heads fashioned from stone darker than much of what was found in the ancient tomb.

"This has to be it," she said quietly as she began her descent of the stone steps. As she neared the bottom the steps under her began to rumble and quake. She stood stock still, her hand poised over her dagger, ready to contend with whatever threat this sudden rumbling might be a portent of. The water on either side of the path began to boil and bubble and slowly black stone eagles, glistening as the rivulets of water ran off their black stony feathers, rose slowly from the water, arching over the path like the head of some great sea serpent. Four in all rose from the depths, two on either side. Emily could not be sure whether their movement was magical or mechanical in origin. She'd seen plenty of evidence of both employed in these ancient fanes.

She made her way down the path between the imposing statues towards the altar, her footsteps echoing around the perfect quiet that had settled over the cavern the moment the stone hawks had ceased their movement. There was writing on the altar, written in Daedric. Unversed in this foreign tongue she took a roll of paper from her bag and, taking up a stick of charcoal, made a quick rubbing. Her vampiric companion was learned in the tongue of the Daedra and would likely be able to translate it for her. She then turned her attention to the top of the altar. There was a stone hand carved into a grasping position, as though it was designed to hold something, but it was empty. Instead, balanced carefully atop it was a folded piece of parchment. Emily took the parchment from the altar and opened it.

_Dragonborn,_

_I need to speak with you. Urgently._

_Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood, and I'll meet you._

_A Friend_

Emily pocketed the note. She made a quick search of the rest of the altar and the surrounding area for the Horn but to no avail. She found only the bodies of two draugr, lying prone before their sarcophagi. She surmised that it was likely whoever placed the note dispatched them. Neither were more than two feet from where they would have stepped from. Whoever had placed the note evidently had some skill in either blade or spell. Emily hurriedly left the room through another wooden door which took her into what was evidently the treasure chamber. The casks and containers she left untouched, distinctly getting the impression that Master Arngeir would not care for them grave robbing their founder.

A winding tunnel led steeply upwards, lit only by the occasional torch. Emily followed it to an iron door carved with ancient Nordic symbols. Through it lay yet another tunnel. Emily hurried up the steep slope, following it until she came to what appeared to be a dead end. Only a section of stone which jutted out slightly from the others with a deep groove running around it and a metal lever set into the wall marked it as anything but a dead end. Emily pulled the lever and the stone slab moved back into the wall, sliding down into the floor. On the far side was a room filled with urns that they had glimpsed earlier. She hurriedly left the room and ran back towards the entrance.

Serana looked up when she heard the running footprints.

"Did you get the horn?" she asked as Emily reached her. She shook her head, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the note.

"No, I found this instead," she replied, "Someone went to a lot of trouble to make sure we got this note. Whoever it is has taken the horn I think."

"Dammit," Serana swore under her breath.

"Nothing's ever simple for us, eh?" said Emily ruefully, "Come on, we'd better get back to Morthal. It'll be dawn in another few hours."

***

"So, what does it mean?" Emily asked as she folded her arms on the back of the chair, regarding her companion as she studied the Daedric lettering.

"It just says Windcaller," she said, "Nothing mysterious or revealing."

"But why was it in Daedric?" Emily asked, "He was a Nordic war hero turned philosopher, wasn't he?"

"I'm not sure why but I do have a theory," said Serana.

"Let's hear it," replied Emily, downing the last of her mead and setting the empty tankard down on the table.

"Jurgen Windcaller led the assault against the Dwemer and notably, the Chimer," Serana explained, "They're the ancestors of the Dunmer before the Daedric Prince, Azura, changed them. They worshipped the Daedra as gods, much how many of the Empire's citizens worship the Divines. As such they often wrote using the Daedric alphabet," Emily listened as she continued. "Their forces completely obliterated that of Jurgen Windcaller," she said, "And you remember what Arngeir said, that it was this loss that he pondered over until he founded the, 'Way of the Voice,' as they call it. That was a big moment in his life and changed the direction of it forever. I think he had his epitaph written in Daedric as a reminder of that."

"Sounds reasonable enough," said Emily, "Hey, shall we hit the hay or shall I order us another round?"

"No, I think I'll get some rest for tonight," Serana replied as she got up from the table.

"I might as well then too," smiled Emily as she followed her towards the sleeping quarters.


	3. Delphine

The journey to Riverwood took them just under three weeks. They stopped briefly in Whiterun where Emily procured herself a new pair of boots as the Chaurus they had encountered in the swamps had left a gaping hole in the ankle of one. These were steel capped, made from dark leather and the blacksmith assured her they would withstand a bite from a sabre cat. Emily had her reservations about this claim but handed over the gold nonetheless.

"Do you have any arrows for sale?" she asked as the Blacksmith pocketed the gold.

"Actually you're in luck there," he replied, "A traveller came by a few days ago, sold me a whole quiver of good dwarven arrows. It's a wonder he wanted to part with them seeing as the only way to get them is to plunder one of those Dwarven ruins. Dangerous places, they are."

"Believe me, I know," Emily replied wryly. She recalled her time in Alfhand and in the depths of Blackreach beyond. She handed over a few more gold coins and took the arrows from the man. She and Serana split them evenly between themselves before leaving the shop.

"Think we'll make it to Riverwood before the morning?" Emily asked as she shouldered her bag.

"I think so," Serana replied, looking at the sky, "Maybe with about an hour to spare."

"I guess we should hurry on then," said Emily as they left the front of the Smithy. She paused, "Unless you'd rather we get a room at the Bannered Mare and continue on tomorrow evening." Serana shook her head.

"I'd rather find out who this 'friend' of ours is," she replied, "I've been mulling it over, Em, but I've come up with nothing. We…don't exactly lead the most active social lives so there aren't many people to consider. It's hardly going to be Isran."

"And no one from the Mourning Sun would have any need to remain anonymous," Emily added, "Whoever it is, knew we were going to Ustengrav which means whoever it is, knows that I'm Dragonborn."

"That rules everyone but the Greybeards out," said Serana, shrugging her shoulders. They passed through the city gates, nodding to the guards as they passed. True to Balgruuf's word, they did not question their movements, merely inclining their heads in a gesture of respect.

"And Balgruuf, the Court Wizard and Lydia," Emily added.

"Can't be Lydia then," Serana laughed.

"Give her a break," smiled Emily, "Besides, I think you might have changed her mind about vampires after that encounter with the troll." They passed under the stone bridge and stopped at the edge of the stonework as they waited for the drawbridge to be lowered. The Stormcloak rebellion had gained momentum in recent months as the Imperials, more occupied with the Stormcloaks, were doing little about the dragon attacks. As a consequence, the citizens of Skyrim were turning to Ulfric, more and more falling in under his banner with each passing day. As such, an attack on Whiterun was becoming increasingly likely and the drawbridge was raised by night. With the exception of the two Thanes, anyone appealing to get inside after dark was in for a tough time and a night spent in a dusty hayloft became an increasingly likely scenario.

The drawbridge was lowered and they crossed quickly. The heard it being raised behind them as they followed the cobblestone path down towards the main road which led past the meadery and its outbuildings and onward to the partially ruined western watchtower where they had contended with their first dragon.

They followed the main road past the meadery and turned right onto the hairpin road that would take them up to the Nordic village.

The only windows that were not cloaked in darkness when they arrived were those of the Inn. The words, 'The Sleeping Giant' were written in large lettering on the sign which swung sluggishly in the chill night air. A man in a green jerkin and dark breeches was leaning on the wooden railings, still nursing a tankard of mead. His unfocused bloodshot eyes and wavering posture told them this was not his first. Emily pushed open the wooden door.

The Inn was quiet, much of its patrons having left or taken to their beds. The embers of the dying fire crackled in a large firepit that ran the length of the centre of the main room. A woman in a patched and worn blue dress was sweeping dust from under the wooden benches. She looked to be watching them as she worked, paying scant attention to the dust being ushered along by her broom. The bartender, a stern looking man with a craggy face was handing a small pouchful of coin to a man with blonde hair and beard. A lute was slung across his back. He accepted the coin before leaving the bar and heading for the door. He nodded to them as he passed, pocketing the coin as he pushed the door open and stepped out into the night.

Emily and Serana crossed over to the bar where the bartender was cleaning a tankard with a well-worn cloth that looked as though it had, in some distant time, actually been white. He looked up when he noticed their approach.

"Can I get you something?" he asked. His voice was slow, deep and gravelly.

"We'd like to rent a room," Emily replied. The man grunted in reply before turning to the woman.

"Delphine, got two here wanting a room for the night," he said. He needn't have attempted to get her attention. They already had it. Her eyes had not left them since they'd opened the door to the little tavern.

"The attic room," Emily added. At these words the woman's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She leant the broom against the wall and strode over to them.

"The attic room?" she said, echoing Emily's word as she raised an eyebrow, "We don't have any such room. But you can have the one there on the left." She gestured to one of the wooden doors which led off from the main room. Emily thanked her, handing her the sum of gold. The woman watched as they pushed open the wooden door and disappeared inside.

Emily had barely had time to sit down on the bed when the door they had just closed behind them was opened. The woman was standing, one hand braced on the door.

"Which of you is the Dragonborn?" she asked, her eyes darting to first Emily and then Serana, sizing up each of them in turn.

"I am," said Emily, getting up from the bed. The woman raised an eyebrow at this.

"You're not exactly what I was expecting," she said. She paused, "I know you from somewhere before though, don't I?" Then a flicker of recognition crossed her face. "Now I remember, you were the one who retrieved the dragonstone for Farengar."

"Then you were the woman in the cowl?" Emily replied. The woman nodded. "And you were also the one who took the horn? You're not exactly who I was expecting either."

"I guess I'm getting pretty good at my harmless innkeeper act then," the woman said wryly as she pulled an intricately carved stone horn from a pack at her hip. "Good. I need to talk with you. Follow me." Without waiting for a reply she turned on her heel and left the room. Emily looked to Serana before following the woman out into the main room. She led them to a room opposite where she paused next to the wooden wardrobe that stood in one corner. She turned back to Serana.

"Close the door," she instructed. Serana pushed the wooden door closed. She watched the woman carefully as she first opened the wardrobe and felt for a small indentation at the side of the wardrobe's interior. There was an audible click and a panel at the back slid to one side to reveal a narrow stairwell. She beckoned them to follow before descending the stone steps. In the event of an ambush in such close quarters they knew they would have the advantage as they would hold the higher ground. From this they concluded the woman was likely planning no such move and so they followed her down the stone steps. They came to a small room.

Several weapon racks lined the walls, blades hanging from their wooden holdings. One of these was a lot thinner than the rest, more closely resembling a samurai sword than the broadswords Emily was accustomed to seeing. In one corner was a training dummy and in the other was an alchemy lab and an enchanting table. A wooden table stood in the centre of the room. There was a sheet of paper sitting in the centre. The faded grey marks covering it suggested the image displayed there was a rubbing. The pattern of the rubbing was vaguely familiar. Red and black ink served to mark certain sections of the paper. A book lay open next to it. Several tankards standing on the table suggested that the room's occupant spent an ample amount of time down here.

"The Greybeards seem to think you're Dragonborn. I hope they're right," said the woman once she reached the table.

"That's right," Emily replied, "But who are you? And what do you want?"

"I'm part of a group who's been looking for you," she replied, "Or someone like you at any rate. If you really are Dragonborn, of course."

"If you need proof on that score," said Emily, "I can shout. Use the Thu'um." Delphine laughed.

"And have you scaring half my customers to death?" she said, "Not a chance. Besides, any fool who's studied the thu'um long enough can shout. I have another means of proof in mind."

"And what exactly would that be?" Serana asked, folding her arms. Delphine turned to look at her as though noticing her for the first time.

"I've said too much already," she said, "I really shouldn't have let you come down here."

"Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Serana," said Emily, "I trust her with my life." Delphine considered her words for a moment before replying.

"Very well," she said at last, turning towards the table and picking up the sheet of paper.

"Why exactly did you take the horn anyway?" Emily asked.

"I knew that the Greybeards would send you there if they thought you were Dragonborn," Delphine replied as she looked over the writing on the paper, "If they're anything, they're predictable. And if you showed up here I would know you were the same one they sent and not a Thalmor plant."

"The soldiers of the Aldmeri Dominion?" said Emily, "What do they have to do with all this?"

"Quite a lot," replied the woman, "If my suspicions are correct of course."

"And why exactly are you looking for a Dragonborn?" Emily asked.

"Do you know what it means to be Dragonborn?" Delphine asked by way of answer.

"I know it's a gift from Akatosh, to be able to shout as dragons do and absorb a slain dragon's life force and knowledge," Emily replied, repeating what Master Arngeir had told her.

"Precisely, and it is that ability to absorb the life force, the soul of a dragon that led me to seek you out," Delphine said, "You're the only one who can kill a dragon permanently by absorbing its soul. Can you then?"

"It was how I learnt I was Dragonborn?" Emily replied, taking a step nearer as she spoke, "A dragon attacked the Western Watchtower outside Whiterun. Serana and I were sent to stop it. When it died a light flowed from it to me, reducing it to a pile of bones."

"This is promising news then," said Delphine, "But I'll need to see that for myself before I can accept it as the truth. This is of the utmost importance."

"There's something you're not telling us though, isn't there?" Emily asked. Delphine nodded.

"Dragons aren't just coming back, they're coming back to life," she replied, "They weren't gone all these years, they were dead. Killed off centuries ago by my predecessors. And now something's happening to bring them back and I need you to help me stop it."

"So, how do you know they're coming back to life?" Serana asked. Delphine turned to her.

"I've gone to their burial mounds and found them empty," she replied, "I've noticed a pattern to the resurrections." She waved the paper she held in her hand, "According to this map I've recorded of their burials the next one to awake will be the one in Kynesgrove assuming the pattern holds."

"Where's that?" asked Emily.

"A small village near Windhelm, just north of the volcanic tundra," Delphine replied, "We need to set out right away. Time is already short as it is." Emily shook her head.

"We can only travel by night," she replied, "Sunlight doesn't agree with us at all." The woman faltered noticeably for a moment. Then she seemed to shrug it off.

"That isn't something I anticipated, I'll admit," she said hesitantly, "A Dragonborn vampire." She shook her head. "Very well, this is too important for my own feelings on the matter to get in the way of. We'll leave tonight, the moment the sun sets." With that she turned on her heel and left the small room, disappearing back up the steps to the bar.

"Isran could learn a thing or two from her," said Emily, folding her arms, "I guess we should head up ourselves and get some rest." Serana nodded and followed her from the concealed room and up the steps. They closed the wardrobe behind them and made their way back to the room they had rented.

As night fell the two vampiresses and the woman, now clad in a set of leather armour, left the Inn. Belted at her hip was the katana Emily had spied earlier in the room below the bar.

"The quickest route would be to follow the road East of Whiterun down to the hot springs and from there go around them and head North until we reach Kynesgrove," she said as they left Riverwood, "We'll need to avoid confrontation where possible. Getting there quickly is of the utmost importance."

"And what exactly do you hope to gain from all this?" asked Serana.

"Two things if we're lucky," replied Delphine, "I hope to get proof that your friend there really is the Dragonborn and not just someone who's studied the voice. And if we can discover exactly how the resurrection is taking place, perhaps we can find a way to stop it."

"And you really think the Thalmor have something to do with this?" Emily asked.

"There are no candidates more likely in my mind," she replied, "Think about it, the Empire spent months scouring Skyrim for Ulfric Stormcloak. They finally capture him and have him ready for the chopping block when a dragon attacks, wiping the whole town off the map and during that time Ulfric just disappears." She turned back to face them, "I presume you heard about Helgen."

"Heard about it?" Emily repeated, "We were there. We saw that dragon for ourselves."

"The Thalmor are the ones who truly benefit from this war, no matter the eventual victor," Delphine continued, "They're just watching from a comfortable position while the two opposing forces tire themselves out in a futile struggle for dominance. Then they come in and mop up after, taking Skyrim for themselves. A more decisive victory would make their task more difficult."

"And you think the Thalmor sent that dragon to attack Helgen?" asked Emily.

"It makes sense," replied Delphine.

"Except it doesn't," Serana answered. Delphine stopped.

"What makes you say that?" she asked. The question was delivered civilly enough but there was a challenge behind it.

"We've fought dragons before," Serana replied, "None of them seemed particularly interested in striking a deal with us." Delphine looked as though she wanted to say something more but thought better of it. Instead she turned on her heel and continued walking.

The end of the first night brought them to Valtheim Towers. The bandits had since abandoned it, either having simply left it for richer pickings or they had been run off by the Hold guard. They had taken most of their furnishings with them, leaving only what was too big to carry. Among the things they left were a few barrels of vegetables of questionable freshness, a few loaves of bread that would have seen better use in wedging doors ajar and a large double bed. They had stripped away the pelts that acted as bedding so Emily and Serana unrolled their bedrolls upon the raised wooden frame. This area of the tower, by good fortune, was also the best sheltered, a slanting roof of wooden planks protecting them from the sun's deadly rays. Delphine left the tower to hunt while Emily and Serana prepared to rest for the day.

"I think it would be best if we didn't antagonise her," said Emily as she took a draft from the bottle at her side.

"She's really stuck on blaming the Thalmor," Serana replied. She rolled over to face Emily, "What do you think, Em?"

"Honestly Sera, I haven't the faintest idea," Emily conceded, "It's a possibility certainly but I don't think it's the only possibility. Somehow Miraak managed to raise Goch and Hwit from their eternal slumbers."

"That was different though, remember?" Serana pointed out, "They went to sleep after the earthlings stopped believing in them. It wasn't death they were woken from."

"That's true," said Emily as she lay down next to Serana. She looked up at the wooden planks overhead. "Sera, there was one dragon who made a deal with us." Serana raised herself into a half-sitting position. "Durnehviir," Emily continued, "He taught me his thu'um in exchange for a few hours of freedom each time I call him."

"I suppose there have to be a couple of exceptions to the rule," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "I still think it's unlikely though in this case."

"So do I," Emily replied, "But I guess we'll get to know for ourselves in a few days' time."


	4. Kynesgrove

The following night they left Valtheim Towers and made their way down towards the river. The White River was the longest in Skyrim, used by many of the settlements it passed through as a means of transporting goods and running the numerous lumber mills located on its shores. It originated in Lake Illinalta in Falkreath Hold and passed through Whiterun Hold and Eastmarch. In Eastmarch it joined with the Darkwater river and finally, as it neared the Dunmeth Estuary it joined with the River Yorgrim before spilling out into the Sea of Ghosts.

Sometime after midnight they reached the point where the White merged with the Darkwater. Here the road veered away from the river side and the land which they trod became noticeably more scrubby. On the faint breeze Emily could detect faint traces of a pungent smell. It reminded her oddly of the stink bombs that her fellow students would let off during particularly sleep-inducing history lectures to "liven things up" as they put it. On one such occasion the lecture hall had to be evacuated for a time while the sulphurous smell of rotting eggs was dealt with.

A movement caught her eye and she looked up to see a solitary light bobbing in the sky. As she continued to look she saw that the light was not, as she first assumed, floating but instead was being conjured by someone at the top of a stone tower. As they drew nearer more and more of the stone structure materialized out of the dark. It looked to have once been an Imperial fort judging by the architecture. They saw several more lights bobbing in the dark, each conjured by one of the mages whose black robes made them almost invisible in the gloom that shrouded the ancient structure.

"Think they'll give us any trouble?" Emily asked as they passed by a fork in the road. Sections of crumbling stone wall at the sides of the road momentarily hid the fort from sight.

"I've travelled this road a few times before," Delphine replied, "When I was checking the burial mounds to the south. I've never had any trouble but it never hurts to be prepared. They normally have a sentry near the road."

"Sounds like they're pretty security conscious then," said Serana with a slight smirk, "They probably have a few experiments they don't want anyone to know about."

"Remember, we're not looking for trouble," Delphine reminded her. Serana rolled her eyes as soon as her back was turned.

As Delphine had predicted a lone sentry stood by the road, robed in black like his peers. He was elderly, watery blue eyes peering out under leathery folds of skin. Wisps of white hair stuck up at odd angles all over his mottled old head. The way in which his head protruded from his robes gave him the appearance of an old tortoise. But both Emily and Serana knew that looks could be deceptive, particularly among mages where great age often came with great power and experience in their field. He watched them with heavily lidded eyes as they approached. When his eyes met Emily's his mouth opened in a toothless smile and she felt a chill run the length of her spine.

"New subjects," he said in a wheezy high-pitched voice. His hands suddenly leapt into action, making signs in middair. There was a sound like a thundercrack and a pillar of blue crackling energy appeared before him. Stirring at its heart was a creature made of floating stones held together by a matrix of lightning arcs. Its craggy face was lit up from within and it raised its rocky hands. Emily conjured a ward as an arc of lightning shot towards her. It bounced off the ward and up into the night sky in a great flashing arc. Serana wasted no time in readying a vampiric drain spell in one hand and a ward in the other. The constant fluctuation in its physical form made landing any form of attack a risky business. Delphine conjured a ward, wielding her katana in her oft hand. The two vampiresses closed in on the Storm Atronach. Lightning flashed off its rocky fingertips, crackling over the wards. Serana was the first to reach it and it groaned under the onslaught of the vampiric drain spell. Its cracked face was frowning as it recoiled in on itself. There was a sudden burst of light and they were thrown back as it threw out its arms and shards of lightning swirled about it. Emily felt one of them strike her arm and her dagger slipped from her numb fingers. She clutched at the unresponsive limb which still shook from the remnants of electricity clawing through it. She was forced to roll quickly to one side as another bolt of energy struck the ground where she had been standing mere moments before. Then she was on her feet again, a ward up before her. She watched as Serana rounded on the atronach, readying an icy spike upon her palm. Suddenly the atronach crumpled to dust and purple flame as it was called back into the depths of Oblivion. Serana looked about for the old man but it seemed like he had vanished along with his Daedric charge. As Emily joined her Delphine emerged from the dark. Her katana was coated with blood. It was spattered across her breastplate and arms.

"I think you'll find it a lot easier if you take out the summoner rather than wasting time on his minions," she said as she held up the head of the old man. His eyes were vacant now, the leathery folds of skin pale and the jaw sagging. She tossed the grisly trophy into the undergrowth.

"We should move," she continued as she eyed the lights now clustered together on the walls and turrets of the crumbling fort, watching them, "It won't be long before they get up the nerve to launch a revenge attack."

Emily retrieved her dagger and they hurried away from the fort. Bursts of light followed them into the dark as lightning struck at their heels, sent after them by those mages left in their wake. Serana kept pace with Emily as they ran. They plunged through dense undergrowth that lined the edge of the road. The night was a bright one with the twin moons shining above and it would be far too risky to leave the cover of the dark spindly plants for the open expanse of the road. Every so often the woodland around them was briefly lit up and they would duck down. Emily could hear shouts carried to them on the wind. Another flash and she saw a robed figure silhouetted against the light for a brief moment before she dove into a patch of ferns. She felt a presence in the disorientating darkness next to her and jumped. She saw red eyes close to her own. Then a hand took hers and led further into the undergrowth. She felt the ground under her feet change from the compacted earth of the tundra forest to loose gravel. The sounds of water lapping close by could be heard and when she turned back from checking over her shoulder she saw the black expanse of a river. It was not deep but it was wide and swift flowing. There was a large stone structure to their right she discovered to be a stone bridge. This was the bridge Delphine had told them about earlier which marked the beginning of their journey into the Hot Springs.

"Come on, quickly," said a voice in the dark close to the water's edge. She could just pick out another figure alongside herself and Serana. The Breton woman was gesturing to the river. Emily glanced over her shoulder once more before following Delphine and Serana into the water. It was cold and seeped into her boots with every step. The water reached first her ankles and then rose slowly up to her knees. The sound of the water tumbling over the rapids further down river covered the sounds of their crossing and when they emerged on the far side they took to their heels.

At last the lights faded from sight and they stopped to catch their breath by a partially rotted wooden sign.

"How's your arm?" Serana asked as Emily leant against a drystone wall. She flexed her fingers experimentally and found each of the five digits to be back in working order.

"A lot better," she replied, "I take it that was some sort of Daedra?"

"A storm atronach," Serana answered, "You don't see them around as often as the fire and frost varieties. They're a lot more difficult to conjure."

"And a more difficult to kill," said Emily, rubbing her arm as it gave a twinge of complaint. She looked up at the sky. Already tinges of pink were growing on the horizon. "Come on, we'd better find someplace to spend the day."

"There's a mining settlement further along the river," said Delphine as she neared them, "We should be able to rest there."

The mining settlement consisted of little more than a handful of dwellings clustered about a fissure in the rock. A smelter close to the mine's entrance belched black smoke into the early morning sky. A series of tents were pitched in a roughly circular formation and in the centre were the embers of a campfire. As they watched an Argonian with green scales and curving ivory horns reached out and hefted another log onto the dying embers which erupted in tongues of orange and yellow. He glanced briefly at them as they passed before returning his attention to the fire. They reached the entrance to the mine and peered in. The rocky interior was lit by a few lanterns hung from ropes stretched across the ceiling. A few rusty pickaxes leant against the tunnel wall close to the entrance. There was a wooden table. On it were several chunks of ore, copper in colour with veins of green running through them. This was corundum, a tough rigid metal and a major component in the manufacturing of steel. Taking a torch from her pack and lighting it, Delphine led the way into the mine.

At last the tunnel widened out into a small cavern. Wooden scaffolding allowed access to the higher reaches. Delphine wedged the torch in between two rocks.

"We should reach Kynesgrove tonight with any luck," she said as she sat down on a rickety wooden chair which stood next to one of the tables, "We can either go across the hot springs or stick to the road, your choice." She took up her pack and unhooked the bedroll from the underside.

"I think I'd sooner stick to the road," Emily replied.

"Probably safer," Delphine admitted, "Some giants call the hot springs home to say nothing of the wolves and bears patrolling the area."

"Are we likely to come upon any more resistance?" asked Serana.

"There are no more structures between here and Kynesgrove," replied delphine, "Except for Mzulft, an old Dwemer ruin but it's quite a distance from the road. We shouldn't have any trouble."

"You said the same of the fort," Serana said dryly as Delphine rolled out her bedroll upon the floor. If she heard her she made no attempt to reply.

Emily joined Serana at the edge of the firelight.

"Kind of a hairy night, huh?" she said as she rested her head on the vampiress' shoulder. She felt Serana's arm about her shoulders, her fingers straying through the tips of her blonde hair.

"You'd think she'd care a little more about getting the Dragonborn safely to Kynesgrove," Serana replied. Emily looked up into Serana's face. She smiled, leaning up and kissing her softly.

"I'll be alright, Sera," she said, "Another night of this, we can get to Kynesgrove, prove I'm Dragonborn and then we can return to High Hrothgar with the horn."

"You know it isn't going to end there, right?" said Serana gently, "When she finds out you are Dragonborn…well…what do you think she'll want from you then?" Emily shook her head.

"I suppose that will depend on what we learn at Kynesgrove," she said.

"Just so long as it doesn't entail sacrificing you to the dragons to appease them or something like that," replied Serana with a smirk, "Because if it does I think we'll be having words." Emily chuckled as she buried her head in Serana's shoulder.

* * *

When night fell they set out once more, re-joining the cobblestone road and beginning the trek around the edge of the vast volcanic tundra. In the centre the land rose steeply upward into a great rocky plateau known as Bonestrewn Crest. It was here Serana and Emily had once journeyed with Lydia with the purpose of learning a word of power. The road they travelled was rocky and uneven. Here and there the cobblestones had been rent apart by the steam which gushed freely from the fissures. It made the air about them unnaturally warm and clammy.

They passed by the wreckage of a wagon. It looked as though some great force had come crashing down from above, smashing it into the ground and reducing it to matchwood. In the wreckage Emily could make out a wooden iron-bound chest and a grey knapsack. Coins littered the wreckage, poking out between the broken timbers. Evidently whoever had attacked this wagon had little interest in wealth. A fetid stench reached their nostrils. They spotted a twisted mangled arm covered in mottled fur sticking out from between two splintered planks.

"This is giant territory, we shouldn't linger here," Delphine said as she looked at a nearby boulder. It was blackened and covered in simple carvings distinct among the giant tribes that roamed the tundra. Emily nodded and they hurried away from the wreckage.

As the great red form of Masser climbed to its highest point in the night sky Emily spotted a cluster of lights situated at the top of a great rocky slope. A weathered sign confirmed their location.

"Here we are," said Delphine. Before she could say anything more a figure emerged from the dark. The woman was not looking where she was going but was instead staring back over her shoulder as she ran. She almost collided with them and skidded to a halt.

"Get out of here," she said, "There's a dragon up there. Quickly, before it burns the whole place down." Then she was off again, sprinting down the road in the direction of Windhelm.

More emerged from the gloom as Serana, Emily and Delphine ran up the hill towards the village. All eyes were wide and fearful. One woman had several children in tow, ushering them on and glancing back over her shoulder every few steps.

As they reached the top of the hill Emily saw a big black shape swoop down over the village.

"Come on," said Delphine urgently, "I hope we're not too late."

They followed Delphine through a small farm which lay to one side of the Inn which made up the centre of the village. Several cattle lowed as they passed. When the black shadowy shape swooped overhead once more they showed the whites of their eyes, tossing their heads and pawing at the ground.

Past the farm was a path that led up between high rocky walls. The ferns growing up the centre of the path indicated it was not one well-travelled. The night was completely silent save for the lowing of the cows in the farm below. All night creatures seemed to be in hiding from the great beast that soared overhead. As they reached the top they flattened themselves against the rocky terrain, following Delphine over to a boulder just large enough to conceal them from sight. From here they watched as the dragon swooped down towards a raised patch of earth surrounded by large flat stones. It hovered there, flapping its great leathery wings. And then it spoke, addressing the ground before it.

"Sahloknir." His voice was deep, rasping and carried easily towards them where they watched and waited. "Ziil gro dovah ulse! Slen Tiid Vo!" The last three words spoken echoed with ancient power and an unnatural wind swirled above the dragon mound. Then the earth shattered under the force of the black dragon's thu'um. From deep in the dust cloud something stirred, crawling slowly from the earthen pit it had languished in. No flesh covered its great bones but its head was raised as though looking at the dragon who had just spoken. An unnatural roar issued from it, not just from its mouth but from the many gaps between its vertebra along its neck. As the dust cleared they beheld its great arching form. Its wings were made up of fine elongated bones, its tail was long and ridged. It turned its great horned head to the dragon that still hovered above.

"Alduin thuri!" it said. Its voice was deeper and echoed around them, "Boaan tiid vokriiha suleyksejun kruziik?" Though Emily could not tell what was being said she got the distinct impression that it was posed as a question. The black dragon answered.

"Geh, Sahloknir, kaali mir." And as he spoke flames licked along the bones of the skeletal dragon, coating him in newly formed scaly flesh. Yellow eyes glowed in his sockets and great leathery folds grew up into a spiny crest atop his green scaly head. Emily looked sharply up as the black dragon ceased addressing the newly awoken dragon and turned its great head in the direction of their hiding place. Eyes as red as her own bored into her.

"Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi," he growled. Emily did not know whether the words were posed as a question, an accusation or a threat but her hand lingered over her bow. Then the dragon spoke again. "You do not even know our tongue, do you?" His red eyes narrowed into slits. "Such arragonce, to dare take for yourself the name of dovah." With that he turned back to the great green dragon. "Sahloknir, krii daar joore." The moment his words ceased the green dragon, the one he called Sahloknir rose into the sky with heavy wingbeats, roaring his challenge to the three standing by the boulder. The black dragon, his work complete, flew off to the North, in that instant seeming to forget about those he had left behind in favour of some new goal.

Emily conjured a ward as the dragon swooped low, unleashing a blast of snow and ice that clouded her vision and obscured him from sight. The ward held firm and when she next looked up she saw him hovering in the sky before her. An arrow whistled past her and tore a hole in his left wing. He listed briefly to one side before dropping heavily to the ground. His head jabbed forwards like a snake and Emily leapt back. His jaws shut with a loud snap.

"I do not fear you, Dovahkiin," he growled. Emily looked into the yellow reptilian eyes. As the mouth opened again and she found herself staring down the vast red gorge she drew breath and shouted.

GAAN LAH HAAS

Her voice echoed as the purple life-draining light ensnared the dragon, dancing along his wings and over his scales. The dragon recoiled under the onslaught, shutting his eyes briefly. In that moment Emily had darted back to safety and she now reached her bow from her back. Delphine and Serana had their bows at the ready. Another blast of ice sent them darting for cover behind the very rock they had watched the dragon's resurrection from. A heavy whoosh and a downdraft of air announced the dragon's departure from the ground. He soared above, raining down ice upon them. It bit into their flesh wherever it touched and forced them to turn their faces away.

"We need to split up and overwhelm him," Emily shouted over the storm of ice, "He can't attack from all sides." Delphine and Serana nodded.

"Hiding will not save you," thundered Sahloknir as he landed heavily on the ground, glaring coldly at the large boulder. Emily climbed atop the rock, clutching her dagger in one hand. The dragon grinned, opening his mouth, frozen energies gathering about it. In that same instant Serana emerged from the right hand side of the rock and Delphine emerged from the left.

WULD

The ice struck the rock where Emily had been mere moments before. The thu'um carried her towards the dragon where she darted under his scaly maw, jabbing with the blade. He roared, rearing back and snapping at her. In that same instant Serana reached his scaly right flank and mounted an attack upon it while Delphine did the same on the left. They kept on the move, darting back out of reach when the dragon lashed out with one of his leathery wings. He roared in a mixture of pain and frustration, lashing his tail this way and that and blasting ice in all directions. Emily jumped back to avoid a lunge from the great pointed head. She thrust upwards with her dagger and thick sticky blood coated her hands. The dragon roared, a higher pitch than before. He tossed his head, sending Emily sprawling to the ground. Then he lunged and Emily brought the dagger up once more. She felt the weight of the dragon's head upon her, the hot breath gushing over her arms. She expected the sharp teeth to close upon her any second and she shut her eyes. But it didn't come and when she opened her eyes she found herself staring into the dragon's blank yellow ones. He was dead, her dagger firmly wedged into the roof of his mouth. Blood still trickled down the blade as the last of the dragon's breath rattled at the back of its throat. Emily pulled out the dagger and got to her feet.

"You really did it," breathed Delphine as she regarded the dragon's corpse, "Come on, I want a closer look at one of these buggers." She hurried over towards the dragon but stopped when a golden light began to creep along its scales.

"Wait, what's happening?" she asked, turning from the glowing dragon to Emily and Serana. The light grew in intensity flowing from dragon to woman, surrounding Emily and flooding her eyes with light. When the light dissipated she asked.

"You…you really are dragonborn then?"

From the way she phrased the question she evidently had been prepared for, if not expecting, the answer to be negative. She didn't require Emily's reply. The glowing light, the skeletal form of the dragon now lying steaming on the ground, these were unmistakable signs of the soul absorption which had just taken place.

"I owe you some answers now, don't I?" she asked with a half smile, "Whatever you want to know, nothing held back."

"Who….exactly…are you?" Emily asked, "Who is this group you mentioned that you're a part of?"

"I'm one of the last surviving members of the Blades," Delphine replied, "We were once great dragonslayers and we followed the dragonborn, the greatest dragonslayer. Until the fall of the dragonborn Empire, that is. After that moment we wandered without purpose. And then came the great war where the Aldmeri dominion tried to hunt us to extinction following the signing of the White-Gold Concordat. Many of us went into hiding. I'm not sure how many are left."

"And what happened there now, with the dragon," said Emily, "Did any of that mean anything to you?" Delphine shook her head.

"Not a thing," she replied, "I was just as surprised as you to see that black dragon."

"We've seen it before," said Emily, turning to Serana, "It was the one that attacked Helgen." Delphine considered her words for a few minutes.

"Interesting, same dragon," she said under her breath. Then she shook her head again. "Dammit, we're blundering around in the dark. Evidently following that dragon around won't get us anywhere. We need to find out who's behind it all." She looked over at Emily and Serana.

"I still think the Thalmor are our best lead," she continued, "If they aren't involved, they'll know who is. If we could only get into their embassy, dig up some evidence." She turned back to the steaming remains of the dragon. "But that place is locked up tighter than a miser's purse. Believe me, they could teach me a thing or two about paranoia."

"Then, how will we get in?" asked Emily.

"I'm not sure," Delphine admitted. She paused, frowning thoughtfully, "Maybe…" Another pause. "I may have an idea but it will take some time to piece together. I'll contact you with the details. Where's your base of operations?"

"You mean where do we live?" asked Emily, "Near Lake Illinalta. A little cottage up in the forest just south of it."

"Very well, I'll send word once I've got things set up," replied delphine, "Good luck out there." And without saying another word she set off down the slope, leaving the two vampiresses alone.

"I guess that's it then," said Emily as she turned back from the retreating figure of Delphine to look at the dragon skeleton. "What do you think we should do now?"

"I think we should find some shelter," Serana replied, "Dawn isn't far off and I doubt that even with the dragon gone we'll have any luck convincing those villagers to return here any time soon." Emily pulled out her map and studied it for several moments.

"I guess we should head to Windhelm then," she said at last.


	5. The Butcher and the Waif

The city of Windhelm was as stony and bleak as Solitude was warm and inviting. The cracked stone flagstones were covered in a permanent sheet of ice. The buildings were much like the people, tough and strong yet cold and grim. They huddled together, creating cold cramped alleyways in between. Emily noted that a foreboding, melancholic air seemed to hang over the entire city. It clung to it. Those few souls they did pass in the streets seemed, to her, preoccupied, as though something was troubling them. One cast a suspicious glance over her shoulder at them once she had passed.

"These people seem uneasy," said Serana quietly as they headed down one of the cramped and crooked streets which took them down into the city's underbelly. They passed a tramp shivering with cold, barely concealed within one of the shop doorways. He was swathed in so many rags that at first they took him to be nothing more than a discarded pile of decaying clothes. Emily dropped a coin into the bowl by his feet but felt no better for it. It would take a lot more than a few coins to stop the old man from freezing to death in the harsh winter.

"It's worse than when we were last here," Emily said under her breath.

"This war's taken its toll," Serana agreed.

A metallic clang echoed in the dark close by and Emily spun around quickly, staring into the gloom. Her fingers touched the blade at her hip as her eyes searched the darkness. A figure was crouched in the shadows. A small gaunt figure dressed in rags.

"Who's there?" Emily asked tentatively.

"Please, lady, don't hurt me," came a small voice. Emily's hand left her dagger as the figure moved, climbing over the rubbish in the alleyway. A pale hand clutched the edge of the wall as the figure climbed out of the alley. She was clutching a rough-looking shawl which was draped over her head and wrapped around her shoulders. In her other hand was a woven wicker basket. In it were a few frostbitten flowers. Her face was smudged and her eyes were sunken.

"What were you doing in there?" Emily asked gently.

"I…was trying to find a place to sleep for the night," the girl replied, "They don't like us sleeping in the doorways. They kick us out, tell us to move on. I thought back there, no one would think to look."

"What's your name?" Serana asked. The girl hesitated for a moment before replying.

"My name's Sofie, ma'am," she said at last, "Please don't tell the guards where I am."

"Don't worry, we won't," Emily reassured her, "We're looking for somewhere to spend the night too actually. Do you know where the Inn is?"

"It's up that way," Sofie replied, pointing off up the street, "I could show you the way." Emily smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

Sofie led them up the street towards the town square. Here the area was lit by a large iron brazier brimming with hot coals.

"Sera, why don't we have a word with the Innkeeper once we get there?" Emily suggested, "See if we can get this kid a room for the night as well. And a decent meal." Serana nodded.

"I was thinking much the same, Em," she replied.

"Here it is," said Sofie as they reached a large building with heavy-looking iron doors. Lights were on in the rooms upstairs, shining out between the iron window frames. She was about to turn and walk back the way she had come when Emily spoke.

"Look, why don't you come in with us?" she asked, "I'm sure we could get the Innkeeper to get you a meal and a room for the night."

"You mean Elda?" asked the girl, shaking her head, "I don't think so. She ordered me out of the Inn only last month when I begged her to let me sleep by the door."

"Well, we'll have a word with her just the same," said Emily.

"I'm confident we can get her to see sense," Serana added, folding her arms with a slight smile. Emily pushed open the door and Sofie followed her and Serana inside. The room into which they entered consisted of an open area where a wooden bar stood. Beyond was a long hallways with doors lining either side. A wooden set of stairs led upstairs where they could hear a fire popping and snapping in the grate. The bar was deserted save for two men in sailor's attire slumped over a table in the corner and a woman with a weather-beaten face and worn beige dress who stood behind the counter. The moment she saw the child her hand reached for a broom standing in the corner.

"I hope you aren't thinking of bringing her in here," she said, "I've told her before I won't have any beggar brats in my tavern." Her voice was shrill, like nails on a chalkboard, and was enough to cause one of the two sleeping sailors to stir from his drunken stupor. He watched them from beneath thick bushy eyebrows. Emily felt a wave of indignation sweep over her as she and the woman locked eyes.

"And you must be Elda I assume," she said, trying to keep her voice level, "Yes, we are bringing her in here. You have good food I take it? And rooms too?"

"None for street urchins," snapped Elda, "She'll be thieving all round her the moment my back is turned if I let her stay here." The little girl shrank back behind Emily.

"We have coin," replied, "How much would it take to change your mind?" The woman gave her an icy smile, looking them up and down.

"More than you can afford, I'm sure," she replied. Emily reached into her pocket and pulled out a small pouch of gold. She deposited it on the scrubbed wooden surface where it clinked as though announcing its presence to the surly Innkeeper.

"Is that enough?" Emily asked. The Innkeeper snatched up the gold and counted it out quickly.

"I'll spare her a bowl of stew," she said with some reluctance, "There should still be some in the pot. But no room. She can eat her food and go." Emily's eyes narrowed as she took up the now empty pouch and pocketed it.

"Nicely handled," smiled Serana as she left the bar and strode back to them. Emily shook her head.

"Not really," she replied, "She'll let her have some food but she wouldn't budge on the room." Serana rested a hand on her shoulder.

"You take her to fetch a bowl," she replied, "I'll see if I can't persuade her to give her a place for the night." Her eyes flashed in a way Emily was familiar with as she left for the bar.

"Come on," said Emily, "She said there's some stew in the pot in the kitchens."

The kitchens were situated near the back of the Inn. Two thick iron cauldrons stood over the fire pit. A slab of meat lay on a table in the corner next to a carving knife whose blade was an inch deep in the wood of the tabletop. An array of herbs hung from a metal rack on the ceiling and a man in a spotted chef's tunic tended one of the pots.

"Excuse me," said Emily as they entered the room. The old man turned to them. His face was wrinkled, his hair white and wispy, "We'd like one serving of your finest stew please. I've already paid Elda." The man nodded and fetched down a wooden bowl from a shelf above his head. Into this he ladled a rich meaty stew before handing the steaming bowl to Emily.

"Big room's upstairs," he said in an old cracked voice, "You can eat up there."

"Thank you," Emily replied before leading the young girl up the wooden steps in the back of the kitchen to the upper level.

The big room was aptly named. Tables and chairs were dotted around the room. They chose two of several which were clustered about the fireplace in the centre of the room. Wavering above the fireplace was a single candle in an iron candle holder. Emily handed Sofie the bowl as they sat down. The girl tucked eagerly into the stew and by the time Serana re-joined them the bowl was all but empty.

"I heard what Elda said, I can't stay here," said the girl, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "But thank you for getting me something to eat."

"That's not what she said to me," said Serana with a smile, "I had another word with her after you two left for the kitchens. She's agreed to let you stay the night. In the room nearest the kitchens." The girl nearly dropped the spoon she was holding halfway to her mouth.

"But…I heard her say," she began.

"Well, she's changed her mind," Serana replied. Sofie set the bowl down on the table and got quickly to her feet, her eyes shining.

"Oh, thank you, thank you," she beamed, "I don't know how you got her to agree but thank you." With that she hurried over and hugged Serana tightly. Serana, taken off guard, froze for a moment. Then she awkwardly patted the girl on the back. Sofie stepped back, still beaming and sat back down to finish what remained of her meal.

Emily looked around at the nearly deserted tavern. The only ones besides them was a woman in a green dress who was sweeping the floor, a dark elven woman who was playing a sombre tune upon her lute and a man who sat writing in the corner. Every so often he leant over and took a swig from a bottle next to him.

"Sofie, do you have any idea why everyone here seems so…glum?" Emily asked, "And everywhere's so deserted."

Sofie set down the empty bowl.

"It's because of the Butcher," she said in a low voice.

"Who's the Butcher?" Serana asked.

"He's a murderer," Sofie replied with a shudder, "They say he prowls around after dark and snatches women from the streets. Always women. Then they find them the next morning but they've all got bits missing." She leant forwards in a conspiratorial manner.

"Several months ago he murdered Friga Shatter-Shield of the Shatter-Shield Clan," she continued, "Up until then he killed only beggars and vagrants, people who wouldn't be missed. That's part of the reason I was hiding away tonight. But the Shatter-Shields live up in Valunstrad, the wealthiest part of the city."

"How long has this been going on?" Emily asked.

"Almost a year now," replied Sofie quietly, "It gets so frightening after dark. I don't know why it keeps happening."

"Well, so long as we're here we'll make sure the Innkeeper gives you a place to stay," said Serana.

"Thank you, miss," said Sofie. With that she got up and made for the stairs. Emily turned to Serana.

"I think we should get some rest ourselves," she said quietly, resting a hand on Serana's arm.

The room Elda rented them was next to the large iron boiler that supplied bathing water to those staying in the Inn. Through the walls Emily could hear the occasional creak of the iron as it was heated by the fires stoked below it.

"You know we're only providing her with a temporary solace, Sera," said Emily quietly as she lay on her side.

"I know," Serana replied. She was looking at the ceiling, "I just wanted to do something for her." She turned to face Emily, "You know I didn't have the most…stable upbringing. I didn't grow up on the streets but…I remember the fear. The loneliness and the uncertainty." Emily rested a hand on Serana's shoulder.

"There is one thing we could do," she said gently, "She said this Butcher only comes out after dark for his victims. That's when you and I work best, don't you think?" Serana raised an eyebrow.

"You're suggesting we catch the killer?" she smiled. Emily nodded.

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," she said, leaning forwards and kissing Serana. "You up for it?"

"We'll start first thing this evening," she replied.

Emily awoke early in the evening to a loud clatter followed by a quick volley of oaths. She got up quickly and dressed. Serana was already awake and had been reading quietly when they heard the clatter. She followed Emily quickly from the room, dropping the book back on the bedside table. They found Elda frantically scrubbing at a puddle of spilt broth which was currently seeping into the floorboards. She punctuated each rub of the cloth with another oath.

"Do you need a hand?" Emily asked as she knelt down to pick up the nearest of the bowls. Elda fixed her with a shrewish glare.

"What I need is for that lazy wench to show up for work?" she said in a shrill voice, "She's an hour late as it is."

"Who?" Emily asked as she deposited the wooden bowls and plates upon a nearby table. Elda sighed, tossing the rag into a bucket.

"A few months ago I hired on a woman named Susanna to help out here," she said, "Not that she's much help. She's been late to work a few times but this…this is beyond a joke." She wrung out the cloth and resumed her scrubbing. "Now, if you could get out of my way. I need to get this mess cleaned up and get a fresh batch before my regulars decide they'd rather eat that muck they serve up in that Dark Elf den in the Gray Quarter."

Emily and Serana left the woman to her work, heading down the corridor to the bar room.

"I don't have a good feeling about this," said Serana as they pulled open the heavy iron door.

"That makes two of us," Emily replied. They stopped on the threshold, pausing as the night air drifted in through the open door.

"You smell that, don't you?" Serana asked. Emily nodded. Closing the door behind them they hurried off down the street that ran alongside the marketplace. Many of the stallholders had closed up shop for the night, throwing tarpaulins over their stalls to keep the snow off. One was pulling a sheet over an enchanting table that stood in one corner of the market. The sound of the cobblestones echoed under their heels as they left the stalls behind them.

They stopped at the top of a set of stone steps which overlooked a shadowy cramped space below. Spindly limbed trees with bare branches grew wild between large stone slabs. At the head of each was a headstone covered in faded weathered lettering. Several people were standing on the frosty earth close to the far end of the graveyard. One of them wore the livery of the Windhelm City guard. As they walked down the stone steps two of the people standing around the grave parted. What lay beyond was a grisly sight. The woman had been stripped and there was a large wound in her abdomen. There were several lacerations on her legs. Each wound had been splayed open to expose the viscera beneath.

"By my ancestors," said Serana quietly under her breath. Emily put a hand to her mouth at the sight. This was not her first time seeing a dead body but rarely had she seen one so heavily mutilated. She recognised her as the woman she had seen sweeping the floor last night at the tavern. The guard was evidently trying to move on those present and turned to stop them when they came near.

"Hold there, it's not a pretty sight," he said, holding up his hand to stop them.

"What happened here?" Emily asked.

"Another woman's been murdered," the guard replied, "This time it's Susanna, from the Candlehearth Hall. She served me a drink just a few nights ago. I didn't know her to speak to though."

"Is anyone investigating the murders?" she asked.

"With this war on we're stretched thin enough as it is," he replied as he leant on his pikestaff, "No sooner has someone volunteered for the job than they get called up."

"Then, we'd like to volunteer," said Emily, gesturing to herself and Serana.

"Fine, you can start by questioning some of these gawkers," he replied, "See if you can get them to move on while you're at it. I have to help Helgird examine the body and prepare it for removal." He gestured to a woman standing close by. She was dressed in the orange robes and yellow hood of the Order of Arkay. They could just make out her wizened wrinkled face in the torchlight.

"Did you see anything of what happened?" Emily asked as they approached the old woman. The old woman shook her head.

"No, I'm afraid I didn't. The guard only sent for me when Silda here reported the body." She gestured to the frail-looking woman dressed in rags standing looking tight lipped and horrified at the body. "But," she continued, "I did notice her coin purse was intact. Whoever did this wasn't after her money."

"This is horrible," said Silda as she turned away from the body, "I was just starting to think maybe..just maybe whoever was doing this had finally moved on. Things were so quiet the last month."

"Did you happen to see anything?" Serana asked. Silda fidgeted with her hands, hurriedly shaking her head.

"No, I just heard the screams when I was outside Candlehearth," she replied, "By the time I got up the nerve to come down here she was already.." She gulped and took a shuddering breath, "Like this." She gestured to the body.

The last person they spoke to was a man with greying hair dressed in merchant's attire. He was staring steadily at the body when they approached him, almost as though he were studying every inch with a practiced eye. He looked up when he caught sight of them.

"It's always a crime when one is taken so young," he said. His voice didn't quite match his appearance. It was older and sounded weary.

"Did you see what happened here?" Emily asked.

"Not really," he replied, "I saw a shadowy figure running away just as I arrived but I'm afraid I didn't get a good look at him."

"So it was a man you saw fleeing the crime scene?" Emily asked. The man shook his head.

"I can't be sure, it might have been," he replied, "Whoever it was, I think they were wearing a cowl. Like I said though, I never got a good look."

"Well, thanks for your help anyway," said Emily.

"It's too bad we don't have forensics at our disposal in this world," she said as they turned away, "We'd be able to identify the killer in a heartbeat."

"And what does forensics involve?" Serana asked.

"The killer would have left his DNA, the very thing unique to him, all over the body," Emily explained, "In the form of blood, skin fragments, hairs, things like that. If we could only get that we could compare it to the DNA of everyone in the city."

"Is there a way we could?" Serana asked. Emily shook her head.

"I know they could do it and I know how they got the samples but all that…," she gestured vaguely as she searched for the right words, "Stuff, the technology. Even if we had access to that I wouldn't have the faintest idea how to use it." She paused, looking down at the ground.

"Hold on a moment," she said quietly.

"What is it?" Serana asked.

"DNA's out of the question certainly," she replied, "But fingerprints aren't." She turned back to Helgird who was, with the help of two guards, preparing to move the body.

"Hang on a moment, ma'am," Emily called out to her. The woman stopped in the midst of her work.

"What is it?" she asked.

"When you move the body, could you and the soldiers use gloves?" Emily asked.

"Gloves? Whatever for?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"When he killed her, there was almost certainly a struggle, wouldn't you think?" Emily asked, "Silda said she heard a scream."

"Yes? So?" The woman seemed to be growing impatient and had planted her hands on her hips.

"He would have had his hands on her," Emily explained, "Which means his fingerprints would be all over her. The pattern on his fingerprints would be unique to him."

"What on Nirn are you whittering on about, child?" Helgird asked.

"Take a look at your hands and then mine," Emily said, pointing to the tips of her fingers. The old woman looked at her hands.

"Yours have a loop pattern," she continued after inspecting the old woman's hands, "Except your thumb which has an arch pattern. Mine, on the other hand, are whorl patterns except for the pinky finger on my left hand which is a loop. Whoever the killer, his would be different again. It means that if we apprehended someone we could take his prints and compare them to the ones on the body."

"And how would we go about doing that?" asked the woman, a note of scepticism still evident in her voice.

"Do you have access to ink, some charcoal powder and a small soft bristled brush?" Emily asked.

"Well, yes, I should be able to get some," replied Helgird, "I won't lie, child, you have my curiosity piqued. But while I'm seeing to transporting the body, you two should speak to Jorleif, the Jarl's steward. He'll not want just any civilian sticking their nose in without his permission. He's had enough to deal with, with that Viola woman."

With that she turned back to the body and Emily saw her take a pair of brown gloves from her pocket as they left for the Jarl's palace.

The Palace of the Kings was situated at the rearmost point of the city. It was the largest of the stone structures that made up Windhelm, tall and imposing. From each tower yet another seemed to sprout, climbing up high into the night sky. Several plaques with faded lettering lined the walls. Two guards stood at the entrance, dressed in heavy furs.

"Halt," said one as they approached, "State your business."

"We need to speak to Jorleif, the Jarl's steward," Emily replied, "There's been another murder. We want to help with the investigation."

"Another?" said the guard, evidently taken off guard by her response, "Who was it?"

"Susanna, the barmaid from Candlehearth," Emily replied. The guard tightened his grip on his pikestaff until his knuckles went white.

"Susanna, are you sure?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Yes, we're sure," Emily replied, "I'm afraid we've seen the body. It was definitely her."

"I was talking to her only two nights ago," he said.

"Was there anything unusual when you last spoke to her?" Emily asked. The guard shook his head.

"Nothing that I noticed," he replied, "She seemed her usual self. Only charged me half for the beer I drank that night. She was laughing, joking, same as always." He shook his head. "Go on in. If you think you can put a stop to these murders, you have my support."

He pushed open the heavy iron door and bid them entry. They found themselves standing at one end of a large banqueting hall. A wooden table ran almost the fall length of the room, covered in a fine blue linen embroidered with silver. Lining the table were platters stocked with the remains of the court's last meal. The candle's had burnt low in the silver candlesticks, flickering and guttering in the cold wind that blew in through the open door. At the far end of the room was a throne and seated upon the throne was a man with blonde hair and beard, garbed in fearsome-looking battle armour. He was a far cry from the man Emily and Serana had seen in Helgen, bound and gagged. His posture spoke of confidence and he watched them out of the corner of his piercing blue eyes. Standing at his side was his steward, garbed in a red tunic and white woollen breeches.

"Excuse me, are you Jorleif?" Emily asked as they neared him.

"Yes, do you have an appointment?" he asked.

"Not exactly," Emily replied, "Helgird sent us to speak with you. There's been another murder and we wanted to get your permission to help with the investigation."

"Then I will gladly accept you offer," Jorleif replied, "These are difficult times we live in. The war effort has us stretched so thin we're left vulnerable to attacks from our own. Any headway you make, make sure you report in to me."

"We will," Serana replied. With that they turned to leave.

"So, what's first?" asked Serana.

"First, we need to get back to Helgird and see if we can get any prints off the body," Emily replied, "And to see if she's discovered anything new after examining it."


	6. Hjerim

As the iron door that led to the Hall of the dead shut behind them with a clang, Emily looked around. The stone tunnel that sloped steadily down reminded her strongly of an ancient Nordic ruin which, given the city's history, it likely was. Thick woody creepers hung from the ceilings like coils of rope and moss covered the grey stones. Candles sitting in stone alcoves lit their way as they made their way down the tunnel. Several crates that smelt strongly of embalming fluid were stacked against the wall.

Deep recesses were carved into the walls. In these lay bodies which had been mummified, their features dry and shrivelled. Some were laid into the wider holes in a sideways manner while others had been pushed in feet first into the smaller holes, leaving their grisly heads hanging over the edge. They found Helgird standing over a wooden table. On it lay the body of Susanna.

"We brought the body here exactly as you asked," she said when she caught sight of them, "No one touched her with their bare hands. Now, care to explain this fingerprint method of yours?" Her tone was one of skepticism as she eyed them.

"Do you have the charcoal dust and the brush handy?" Emily asked by way of a response.

"Right here," replied Helgird, handing her a small burlap sack of black powder and a soft bristled paint brush."

"Where did you get the paint brush if you don't mind my asking?" Emily asked as she knelt down by the body.

"The other week I had the sad business of laying an artist to rest," she replied, "Breton man. They found him in his room at the tavern. No foul play just…died in his sleep. It comes to us all." Emily nodded as she pulled out a pinch of the powder from the bag and began sprinkling it over the body. Helgird and Serana moved closer as she worked, peering over her shoulder. Showing through the dust here and there were several patterns of loops and whorls, each about a centimetre in length. Emily used the brush to sweep away the excess powder using small delicate movements so as not to disturb the revealed fingerprints.

"Alright, I see these prints you're talking about," said Helgird, "So, what now? We ask the whole city to come in and have their prints tested. That would take weeks. And I have other bodies to prepare in that time."

"No, no, nothing like that," Emily replied, "Besides, it wouldn't do any good. Unless the Butcher was the first one you yanked from the street to get his prints tested, word would get around about what was going on, he'd get nervous and vanish into the shadows."

"So, what then?" asked Serana.

"We'll need to keep these prints preserved for the time being," Emily explained, "I hope to catch this person alive. We'll continue our investigation in the meantime and when we catch him, we can use these prints as irrefutable evidence that he was the one who killed Susanna. And if we can find the murder weapon, even better." She looked over at Helgird. "On that note, you've had time to examine the body, did you happen to find anything unusual?"

"I told you at the time her coinpurse was intact," Helgird replied, "It's a shame the same couldn't be said for her clothes. We found them in the bushes close by. No blood on them, which I thought was strange, until I noticed these marks around her neck." She gestured to the dead woman's neck. There, around her neck was a red line, punctuated along its length by sharper red indentations. The flesh around the line was purplish in colour.

"She was strangled then," replied Serana.

"Precisely," said Helgird, turning to look at the vampiress, "By something a lot thinner than a rope, perhaps twine or a leather thong." She turned back to the body.

"None of these marks were the killing blow," she continued, "At first when I saw the discarded clothes I thought perhaps her killer had…intentions towards her. Susanna was known to play the flirt, she had a few liaisons. But then I took a closer look at the wounds. These were not simple mutilation. Take a look at the shape of the wounds." They looked closer. "They look as though were made with a particular instrument, a curved blade used by the ancient Nords for embalming their dead. Problem is I don't know anyone in this city who would have access to such instruments. Aside from me of course."

"We spoke to a young girl last night about these happenings," Emily replied, "She told us the bodies always had bits missing. Is that so?"

"It is," said Helgird, "Several months ago the Butcher killed Tova's Shatter-Shield's daughter, Friga. When we found her, both her eyes were gone and her left leg had been removed. Then there was the vagrant we found. She'd been disembowelled. A gruesome sight."

"Are the murder victims _always_ women?" asked Emily.

"Always and without fail," replied Helgird, "I say it's some sick perverted soul. But whoever it is, is cunning too. Guards have never seen hide nor hair of him."

"Well, thanks for your help," said Emily, "We'll continue our search and we'll let you know if we find anything."

"Good luck," replied Helgird, "With the killer's current record I think you're going to need it."

They left Helgird and climbed the stone slope that would take them back outside.

"Do you think there's any chance she did it?" asked Emily.

"I can't say it's impossible," replied Serana, "But I wouldn't call it likely. She told us what made the cuts. I doubt she'd reveal that kind of information if she was the culprit."

"You're probably right," said Emily as she pushed open the iron door. As the cold night air hit her she once more smelt the familiar smell that had drawn them to the crime scene in the first place. She looked down at the ground and saw several spatters of dark red liquid covering the flagstones.

"They must have spilt some of her blood when they moved the body," she said wryly, bending down to examine the stain on the stonework. She looked along the path and another spatter of red caught her eye. This one was on the steps leading up away from the graveyard.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," replied Serana as she joined her, "Not unless they took the body on some kind of detour."

They followed the trail of blood up the stone steps. It took them out of the graveyard and into a residential area. The streets here were wide and each of the great houses were surrounded by high iron fences. The family's crests were carved into the stone at the centre of the archways that stood before each house. The houses spoke of a level of affluence unmatched by many of the others in the city. Blood was splattered across the ground at semi-regular intervals along the street, seeping deep into the engravings on the flagstones. They followed the path along past the houses until they reached the end of the street. Here another splash of the thick red liquid was smeared along one of the stone walls as though whatever the blood had leaked from had been momentarily resting up against the stone.

"Looks like this is where the blood leads," said Emily, gesturing up to the house. It was every bit as grand as the others on the street but Emily felt a peculiar chill as she looked upon it which had nothing to do with the winter wind whipping around them. Serana strode boldly up to the door and tried the handle.

"It's no good," she said after a moment, "It's locked tight."

"I wonder who lives here," said Emily as she studied a plaque next to the door, "Hjerim. Does that name mean anything to you?" Serana shook her head.

"No, but I think whoever lived here was a member of Clan Shatter-Shield," she replied as she looked up at the stone archway.

"How do you know that?" Emily asked, a tone of mild disbelief evident in her voice.

"A guess," replied Serana, "But it's an educated one."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," smiled Emily, "So, what led you to that conclusion?"

"Do you remember that book I got several months back on Windhelm's history through the last age? Notable Clans of the Fourth Era: Windhelm and Solitude?"

"Yes, I remember," Emily replied.

"That book mentioned the Shatter-Shield clan," said Serana, "And it included a sketch of their family crest. The same crest that's hanging above that gate. Whoever owned that house was likely a member of their family. Or at the very least was an ally of theirs and bought the house with their blessing."

"I saw another house bearing this crest then," said Emily, gesturing back along the street they had just walked down, "And it looked a lot more lived in than this place. I guess we should go ask there about getting a key." Serana nodded.

They knocked upon the door of the large stone house. There was light in the upstairs window but the lower floor was in darkness. Snow covered the tiles on the roof and the many gabled dormers. At the end of each gable a stone hawk stood, keeping eternal vigil over the streets. The garden consisted of a small patch of blue mountain flowers and a few sprigs of lavender. The door was large and heavy-looking with an iron knocker in the shape of a bear's head. The night was growing, if possible, colder and the face that opened the door did little to warm them. He was a man in his mid fifties. His bald head was in stark contrast with the veritable forest that was growing from his chin. He wore clothes that spoke of an opulent lifestyle, well insulated against the cold that seeped in through the cracks around the windows and under the doors as even the most lavish of households could not win entirely against the winter wind.

"What do you want?" he asked tersely, "If it's about the docks it'll have to wait 'til morning."

"No, it's nothing like that," replied Emily, "It's about Hjerim."

"Listen, we'll have the taxes when we have them," he said. His voice sounded tired and harassed. "You can't get blood from a stone. I'm expecting a shipment in another few days. Good Breton silver. With that I should have enough to cover this season."

"We're not tax collectors," Emily said, "I believe your daughter was murdered a few months ago. We're investigating her murder and the murder of the others." The man scrubbed a hand over his tired face. His eyes were bloodshot and the strong smell of ale on his breath suggested it to be more from drink than fatigue.

"We've had the guards over here three times already, bothering me and my wife and for what?" he said, "Nothing. They've picked over every inch and asked every question a dozen times. We're trying so hard to move on but we get nothing but reminders of her death."

"I promise, we don't want to ask anything much of you," said Emily gently, "We would just like the key to Hjerim."

"They key? Why?" asked the man.

"Another woman was murdered tonight, Susanna of Candlehearth Hall," Emily explained, "We discovered a trail of blood leading away from the murder and it ended at Hjerim." The man narrowed one eye, staring at them hard. "Was Hjerim your daughter's house?" Emily continued. There was now a vein pulsing in the man's temple.

"It was," he said quietly, "Listen, I don't like where these questions of yours are going. I hope you haven't come here to start throwing accusations around." His tone was angry now. "First guard who came to investigate accused me…ME of having a hand in my daughter's death. As if I would kill my own daughter. She was everything to me." His eyes were glistening with unshed tears. "Everything. Look, just leave."

"But…the key," said Emily timidly.

"Get out," the man almost shouted. The door slammed shut with a kind of finality, leaving the two vampiresses standing in the street. Inside they heard something made of glass shatter against the wall as the footsteps receded back into the house. Emily sighed.

"Poor man," she said quietly, "I can't begin to imagine what he's going through now."

"What'll we do now?" asked Serana. Emily looked up the street in the direction of Hjerim.

"Can we pick the lock?" she asked. Serana shook her head.

"Unlikely," she replied, "A house like that, it'll be locked up tighter than a miser's purse." She followed Emily's gaze. "We could break in," she added after a moment's thought. Now was Emily's turn to shake her head.

"We're acting as an extension of the law here," she said, "With the steward's permission. We can't break one law to aid in upholding the rest." She shook her head again. "No, for now, let's return to the tavern. Maybe a drink will get some ideas going."

The tavern was nearly empty when they arrived. Word had got around of Susanna's death and now that darkness had fallen over the city, both figuratively and literally, most had retreated to the relative comfort of home and hearth. Elda was cleaning tankards with a rag and judging by the row of spotless tankards lined up on the bar it was more for something to do than any real necessity. Her expression was tight-lipped, her eyes firmly focused on the task at hand but her hands were shaking slightly.

Emily noticed a small figure sitting on one of the benches, wrapped up in her shawl.

"What are you doing up, kid?" Emily asked as she sat down next to her.

"I couldn't sleep," Sofie said quietly, "They said there was another murder." She shuddered. "Susanna was always really kind to me. Used to give me some bread and cheese whenever Elda wasn't looking. I can't believe she's gone."

"Listen, we're going to find whoever did this," said Serana as she joined them.

"Though how I don't know," Emily admitted, "We had a lead but…it went cold."

"What happened?" asked Sofie.

"We followed a trail of blood to Hjerim," Emily explained, "But the place is locked. We tried asking for the key but we were refused. I doubt that man will want anything more to do with us." Sofie looked down at her legs as they dangled off the bench. She seemed to be thinking hard about something and she fidgeted with her hands.

"I might know a way in," she said at last, "But promise you won't tell the guards what I did." She reached into the folds of her shawl and produced a large silver key. "About two months back I took this key from Tova Shatter-Shield's pocket when she was shopping at the market. There'd been another murder the night before. One of the vagrants who slept near the docks. I was only two streets away when it happened. I heard the screams. And I got scared." She shuddered before continuing. "I started thinking that with her daughter gone the house would be lying empty and I could sleep in there. It sounded so safe."

"Then what happened?" asked Serana.

"I went to the house that night and slipped in," Sofie continued, "But the whole house smelt…damp and there was this strange cold feel to the place. I thought maybe her ghost was still haunting it. Then I heard someone moving something heavy just outside and I thought I heard the door creak open. I panicked and climbed out one of the windows at the back. I haven't been there since." She handed Emily the key.

"Thank you, Sofie, this will be a big help," she said, "Sera, I think we should go now. While the trail's still fresh." Serana nodded.

"Can I come too?" Sofie asked.

"Absolutely not, that would be far too dangerous," Emily replied, "You stay here where it's nice and warm."

"But, I want to help," Sofie insisted, "I could help you look for clues. Or…or maybe keep a lookout?" She looked earnestly up at Emily and Serana.

"Alright," Emily relented with a sigh, "But you stay close the entire time, alright? And you do what me and Serana tell you. We're not sure what we're going to find in there." Sofie nodded.

They left the Inn and made their way back towards Hjerim. Sofie had pulled her shawl tightly about her to keep out the worst of the wind. She recoiled at the sight of the blood smeared over the stone wall. Emily pulled on a pair of gloves before drawing her dagger and Serana readied a paralysis spell in her left hand as Emily put the key in the lock. She heard the tumbler turn with a muffled ker-chunk and the door slid open with a grating squeal. Emily's eyes quickly grew accustomed to the lighting beyond the door but a more difficult task lay in accustoming her nose to the smell. Sofie had been right. The whole place smelt damp and musty. But there was another smell, almost completely overwhelmed by the damp air. It was metallic and drew her in silently.

The house was almost completely empty. A barrel lay on its side next to a wooden table on which stood a lone metal tankard. Shards of glass littered the floor. There was more blood, seeping in between the wooden boards. Sofie kept close to Serana as she eyed the red stain. In the corner lay a wooden chest. It too was spattered with blood.

"Looks like our killer's a messy one," said Serana quietly. They crossed the room silently, taking care to avoid the glass. She bent to examine the floor before the chest.

"Em, take a look at this," she said, "This chest has been moved recently if the marks on the floor are anything to go by."

"We'd better take a look inside," said Emily. The chest, to her surprise, was not locked and when she opened it she found that the chest was piled high with identical slips of paper. Written in bold at the top of each one were the words, "Beware the Butcher," The message below encouraged all citizens of Windhelm to remain safe and to contact a certain Viola Giordano should they notice any suspicious behaviour.

"Looks like he's been trying to silence this Viola woman," said Emily, "Didn't Helgird mention her?" She turned to Sofie. "Do you have any idea who she is?" Sofie nodded.

"She's a little strange," she said, "I saw her in the Inn earlier. She was talking to the retired sea Captain. She said something about the snow at the murder scene, that is settles in a different direction there than anywhere else, something like that."

"She sounds a little eccentric," Emily replied, "If I were her I'd be careful though. Judging by how many fliers there are here, the Butcher is well aware of her attempts to have them captured." As she sifted through the fliers Emily's fingers collided with something. She pulled out a small leatherbound reddish-brown book. There was a dark stain on one of the corners. Emily flipped it open and scanned the scrawled writing on the page.

"It's just as Helgird said," she shuddered, "The murderer has been killing these women to harvest from them." The book detailed how the killer had found sources of bone, flesh and blood but lacked a source of sinew and tendon. It also catalogued his attempts to murder Susanna, claiming that her strong joints should contain, in their words, 'the most exquisite tendons.'"

"Sera, I'm guessing flesh magic would be a form of necromancy, right?" she asked, "What kinds of applications would it have?"

"Nothing good as I'm sure you can imagine," Serana replied, "I've heard of people creating flesh atronachs before. Their Daedra trapped inside flesh contraptions. Not pleasant. Whoever it is, would have to be either very skilled or very foolish. Probably both."

"There have been rumours about the Court Wizard, Wuunferth, using necromancy," Sofie piped up, "That's why they call him Wuunferth the Unliving. He's kind of scary."

"Well, I think we should see if we can find any more clues before we start making any accusations," said Emily.

They continued their search of the room which brough them to a small chamber in the back. There were two wardrobes standing against the wall and a small table piled high with sheafs of paper. Emily bent to examine the papers and soon discovered that they were identical to the ones they had found in the chest. As she moved one of them from its resting place she heard a faint clink as of the sound of small metal rings moving against one another. She pulled out the rest of the papers and found an amulet lying there. It was made up of a black leather thong interspersed with metal rings. A pendant hung from the centre which consisted of a grinning jade skull surrounded by a tarnished metal ring. Emily gingerly picked it up, weighing it in her hand. The metal rings caught her attention.

"Sera, I think I've found what killed Susanna," she said.

"I think I've found something too," Serana replied. Emily got up and she and Sofie crossed over to where Serana was standing before the wardrobe. "Look," she continued, "This wardrobe is nailed to the wall. That other one that looks identical," she indicated the wardrobe standing opposite, "Isn't. What makes this one so special I wonder."

They opened the wardrobe. The interior looked just as you would expect. There was a single coat hanging inside and a pair of shoes sitting on the floor. But something was off. At first she could not figure out what. But then it occurred to her. As far as any of the city's residents were concerned, this place was abandoned and had been for several months. Dust was thick on every surface. Every surface except the chest, the table where she had discovered the amulet and this wardrobe while it's identical twin was covered in a thick layer of dust. Emily pushed the coat aside and felt around the edges of the interior. Her fingers collided with a small switch which she pressed. A sliding panel slid to one side to reveal a tiny room, no larger than a cell. The faint metallic smell she had smelt earlier hit her like a sledgehammer. The smell made Sofie gag and she took several disconcerted steps back to catch her breath. The interior was a grisly sight. Bones of every shape and size littered the floor and yet more stood in a wicker basket. A bucket of blood stood in one corner. There was a plate of food on the floor and several ale bottles. The room was lit by several greasy-looking candles on iron stands which stood around a makeshift altar. On the altar lay a ribcage, the torn viscera still holding the bones together if only just. As Emily got nearer she realised the viscera on the ribcage was nailed in place. A skull lay close by. Two staring eyes had been jammed into the sockets and they glowered at her.

"You stay outside with Sofie while I have a look around," Emily said quietly as she crossed back to the entrance to the small room. Serana nodded.

As Emily turned back she noticed that the altar was carved with a series of unfamiliar symbols. On it lay another leatherbound book. This one contained a gruesome itemization of the body parts gathered along with a spell transcribed from an ancient Aldmer text. The incantation was like none she had read before. On the following page was a single word. "Soon." She pocketed the book and continued her search.

Close by there was a shelf and on these rested several iron tools, one of which matched the description Helgird had given her. She took a burlap sack from her pack and dropped the tools carefully in, one by one.

"Okay, I think that's everything," she said, "I've found the tools the killer was using. We'll need to get these to Helgird so we can dust them for prints. See if they match the prints found on Susanna's body. There's another journal as well. I think you could be right about the flesh atronach. There was just one word on the last page. The word, 'soon.' I don't know what it's referring to though."

"Alright, we'll go back to the tavern first," Serana replied, "You need to rest, kid. You can leave the rest to us." Sofie nodded silently. She followed them from the house and Emily locked the door behind them.

After seeing Sofie safely to the door of the tavern they hurried down towards the Hall of the Dead.

"I hope we haven't scarred that poor kid for life," Emily said as they walked.

"Perhaps we should have been more insistent on her staying behind," Serana conceded, "I forget that not everyone grew up around the sort of thing we saw back there."


	7. The Little Shop of Horrors

"There's a match," said Emily as she stepped back from the embalming tools. In one hand she held a small bag of flour and in the other was the small soft bristled paintbrush. The embalming tools, forged from a dark metal, would not show up the charcoal dust used for the last set of prints so Helgird had had the flour sent up from Candlehearth.

"You said you found an amulet while you were in Hjerim," said Helgird, "May I see it?" Emily produced the amulet from the burlap sack. Helgird took it from her and examined it carefully.

"I've not seen an amulet of this craftsmanship before," she said as she turned it over in her hands, "The design doesn't look Nordic in make. Imperial, possibly. But I'm no collector. Perhaps you should take this to Calixto, he owns a curiosities shop near the Gray Quarter."

"I noticed something else when I was examining it," said Emily, "Look at those metal rings there on the leather thong. They match with the red marks on Susanna's neck. I believe it was this amulet that was used to strangle her."

"Will you be able to dust it for prints?" asked Serana.

"It'll be difficult, such a small surface area," she replied, "But it's worth a try. Maybe he left some prints on the pendant. That's probably our best bet. After that we'll take it to Calixto."

After dusting the amulet for prints they were able to find one thumb print on one side of the amulet and one fingerprint on the other. With that they returned to the Inn. The sky outside was already beginning to lighten and they would have to take advantage of the small window of time between sunset and closing time.

"We have gone," said Emily as she and Serana sat at the bar, "From finding ancient artifacts to stop an ancient prophecy to space travel, to slaying evil dragonborns, to dragonslaying and now we're detectives."

"That's quite the résumé," smiled Serana over the edge of the tankard. Emily took the amulet out of the bag and pushed it over to where Serana sat.

"So, what do you make of this amulet?" she asked. Serana picked up the amulet, examining it from all angles.

"It's definitely related to necromancy," she replied, "There are numerous covens dedicated to the forbidden arts all across Tamriel. This amulet could be a symbol carried by their members, it could denote a position of power. I can detect some kind of enchantment on it."

"What kind of enchantment?" Emily asked.

"It's hard to tell," Serana replied, "It's a multi-layered enchant, not all of which are beneficial to the wearer." She turned it over, touching different parts of the amulet with an expert hand.

"It strengthens magic but at the cost of your natural life force," she said at length, "That part was difficult to pick up on. Being undead, we could probably wear it with fewer ill effects."

"So, what do we do now?" Emily asked.

"I think we should go and see Calixto," Serana replied. Emily stopped with the tankard halfway to her mouth. She set it down on the counter.

"What for?" Emily asked, "I think you've figured out all we'll need to know about this thing." She prodded the amulet. "It's necromantic in nature which perfectly fits with everything else we found in Hjerim."

"I still want to get his opinion on it," Serana replied, "Or to be more precise, I want to gauge his reaction when we show it to him." Emily took a draft from the tankard. "Something just didn't sit right with me when we were questioning him," Serana continued, "I can't really explain what. He just seemed sort of detached."

"Now that you mention it," said Emily as she set down the tankard, "Silda had more the kind of reaction I'd expect from seeing a dead body, fear. And even Helgird who deals with dead bodies day in and day out had more to say."

"Exactly," replied Serana.

The door to the Inn opened and a figure materialized out the of the flurry of snow that blew in through the open door. Emily and Serana recognized the figure, muffled though she was in her frayed shawl.

"Hi Emily, hi Serana," she said as she reached them. She put the basket she was carrying up on the counter top and pulled a stool over from the end of the bar. The basket was more than half full of snow. Nestled in the bottom, amidst some frostbitten sprigs of lavender were a few gold coins.

"Hello Sofie," Emily replied.

"Did you manage to catch him yet?" Sofie asked. Serana shook her head.

"Not yet," she replied, "But we have a new lead to follow tonight."

"What kind of lead?" Sofie asked.

"You remember that amulet we found?" Emily replied, "We're going to take it to Calixto tonight and see what he can tell us about it."

"I've never seen inside his curiosities shop," said Sofie, "But there was a boy named Aventus who used to live in Windhelm a few years ago. His mother used to take him to his shop sometimes. She died almost a year ago now though and Aventus was taken to the Orphanage in Riften." Elda approached them from behind the bar and Sofie exchanged the gold in her basket for a bowl of soup.

"So, how come you didn't go there? Riften's a good deal warmer than here and there'd be someone to take care of you," Emily said. Sofie shook her head.

"They tried to take me there," Sofie said, "After my father died. But I ran away. I'd got a letter, you see? From Aventus. My mother taught me how to read and write. He told me the headmistress is an evil cruel woman. She even locks the kids away when they disobey her and she beats them. And I thought I'd rather freeze out here than go there. Besides, I can get by, if only just."

"How do you get by here?" Serana asked.

"I sell flowers," Sofie replied, "I pick them out near the farms outside the walls."

After finishing her soup Sofie got up and wrapped her shawl tightly about herself once more, taking up the wicker basket.

"Bye," she said as she waved to them from the door before disappearing back out into the snow.

"Poor kid," Serana sighed, "I wish there was something more we could do, Em." Emily toyed with the amulet while Serana rested her chin in her hands. She set the amulet down and turned to the vampiress.

"Maybe," she said, choosing her words carefully, "There is something, Sera." She rested her hand on the vampiress' arm. Serana turned to face her. Emily smiled.

"No, no," Serana said, "Em, I know what you're thinking." She got up from the bar stool, turning away from the bar. Emily stood up.

"Why not?" she asked.

"You want a list?" Serana asked, "Em, we're vampires. How could we explain that to her and not expect her to be scared?"

"We've mixed with mortals before," Emily replied, "Angeline for example. She let us live in her house for months. And Lydia, she might have feared us at first but…if you recall, I wore her down in the end."

"Em, I'm not exactly what you'd call maternal," said Serana, "You met my parents, remember? I didn't exactly have the best example to follow."

"But you're not them," smiled Emily, moving a little nearer and resting a hand gently on Serana's arm, "You're kind, you're understanding, patient. I mean, do you honestly think just anyone can put up with me?" This last remark elicited a smile from the elder vampiress. She turned to face Emily.

"Do you really think we can?" she asked. Emily took Serana's hands in hers.

"My mother always told me that when you become a parent, no one gives you a manual or a set of instructions," she said, "You just sort of pick it up as you go along, like every parent that's gone before." Serana was silent for a moment. She looked at the Earthling's hands as they held hers gently. Her eyes met Emily's. They were alive with a quiet determination. It was a look she recognised and she smiled. Slowly she leant forward and kissed the tip of her nose.

"Let's try then," she said. She felt Emily's arms around her.

"I love you," Emily murmured as she buried her head in Serana's shoulder.

"I love you too," she replied, resting her chin on Emily's hair. After a moment she drew back. "We should get some rest. There's still a few hours left until sunset."

***

The sun had barely set when they left the Inn, closing the door behind them. The House of Curiosities was a large building built on the edge of the Gray Quarter. It was a good deal more grand than those buildings surrounding it and was a stark contrast to the slums beyond. There was a light on in the downstairs window. Emily took up the brass knocker which was shaped into the likeness of a dragon head and knocked three times. They waited and after several moments the door was opened. Standing before them was the man they had spoke to at the scene of the murder.

"Can I help you?" he asked. His tone was one of polite indifference.

"We were told you were the man to see about strange artifacts," said Serana. The man's eyes sparked with a sudden light of recognition.

"Ahhh, yes, I remember you, you were at the graveyard where that young woman was found," he replied, "Susanna, her name was, wasn't it?" He led them over to a table. On it sat a single candle along with a wooden platter with some half eaten grilled leeks sitting upon it. He pulled out one of the chairs, offering it to Serana. Emily felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as he looked upon her. He then pulled another chair out for Emily and she sat quickly, not wishing to meet his gaze.

"So, you mentioned a strange amulet?" he asked. Serana took the amulet from the pack and held it out for him to see.

"Ahhh yes, this is a familiar item," he said as he took it from her, "This is a wheelstone. It's an heirloom symbol of the power of Windhelm. Traditionally it's carried by the court mage."

He held the amulet a little closer, his eyes darting briefly over the pendant. "I would be interested in…looking to acquire it. That is if you were willing to part with it."

"But if it belongs to the Court Mage, shouldn't he have it?" Emily asked. She held out her hand, unwilling to let the amulet travel much further from them.

"Bah, Wuunferth?" said Calixto dismissively, "It's purely symbolic. Besides, I wouldn't want to be the one to give it to him. He gives me the creeps. They say he dabbles in necromancy."

"Well, I think we should hold onto it for the time being," Emily replied, still holding out her hand. The man looked hesitant, even reluctant.

"Very well," he said as he dropped the amulet into her hand, "But you're wasting your time. There's no one else in the city or indeed all of Skyrim who would be willing to pay the amount I would."

"I'm sure," said Serana calmly, "Well, if we change our minds we'll let you know."

"Be sure to drop by any time," Calixto replied. Once again Emily got the distinct impression that he was looking them up and down, committing every detail to memory. As she stood up she took Serana's arm. Serana felt the urgency in her grip as they left the shop. Once the door had closed behind them Emily let out an audible sigh of relief.

"You saw what I meant back there?" said Serana. Emily nodded.

"He says Wuunferth gives him the creeps?" she replied, "I find it difficult to believe he could be any creepier than him." She jabbed a thumb back over her shoulder at the door to the House of Curiosities.

"He recognised that amulet," said Serana, "And as for his appraisal? My knowledge of ancient artifacts might be a little rusty but I know a wheelstone when I see one."

"The very fact that he wanted to buy it off us at all," said Emily, "It's evidence and he knows it."

"So, what now?" asked Serana.

"Everyone's so scared of this Wuunferth fellow that none will approach him," Emily replied, "So I think we should do just that."

"Agreed," Serana replied, "He'll probably be in the Jarl's palace."

They left the House of Curiosities behind and made their way along the icebound streets to the towering dark stone edifice that was the Jarl's palace. After a short conversation with the guard on duty they were allowed inside. Once in the main hall they located a small iron door that led into one of the adjoining buildings.

They climbed a set of well worn stairs and made their way along the narrow dimly lit corridors. The only source of light came from the wrought iron chandeliers that hung from the low ceiling. The stones were cold and there was little difference in temperature between the air within the walls and the air without. At the far end of the corridor, through a stone archway, they saw an enchanting table similar to the one Emily had seen in the College of Winterhold. The room they entered was not large but it was well stocked. Row upon row of ingredients lined the shelves which groaned under their weight. Potions in bottles of all shapes and sizes were crammed onto a small table next to an alchemy lab. Upon a larger table lay a large piece of red capped fungus. It had been recently dissected and the knife made for accomplishing such a task lay next to the fungus. Sitting in the corner was an old man with a grey beard that reached to the middle of his chest. Their appearance made him look up from the book he was reading. He closed the book with a thud, his expression peeved.

"I thought I told those lazy good-for-nothing guards that I wasn't to be disturbed," he said gruffly, "I'm afraid if you're looking for enchanting services you're out of luck. I'm very busy."

"We need only a moment of your time," began Emily.

"A moment of my time?" growled Wuunferth, getting to his feet, "No, I don't even have so much as a moment. Like I said, I am incredibly busy. If you could leave now, I'd be most grateful."

"Listen, you may be the only one in this city who can help us right now," Emily persisted, "We're investigating the murders committed by the Butcher." The old man spun around with startling speed. His hand upset a beaker of liquid which spilled its contents over the partially dissected fungus. The old man hardly seemed to take this under his notice, instead fixing his gaze steadily upon the two vampiresses, his expression now one of interest.

"Then you're the two Jorleif told me about," he said, "I've been investigating this case myself for the past few months, ever since Friga Shatter-Shield was killed actually." He set the book down on the table. "And what exactly is it you need?" Emily produced the amulet from her pocket and held it out to the Court Mage.

"We took this amulet to Calixto at the House of Curiosities," she explained, "He appraised it as being a wheelstone, held by the Court Mage of Windhelm. But we're not so sure about that." The old man chuckled.

"And you'd be right to be," he replied, "No, no, Calixto and his books are often confused on such matters." He took the amulet from her, turning it over in his hands. "This is no simple wheelstone. Judging by the skull at its centre and the ebony used to embellish the carving, I believe this to be an artifact known as the Necromancer's Amulet, straight out of legend. It's hundreds of years old and very dangerous in the wrong hands." He looked up at them. "Where exactly did you find this?"

"In Hjerim," Emily replied, "Along with these journals cataloguing the Butcher's activities." She pulled the journals from her pack and handed them to the Court Mage.

"We believe we're dealing with necromancy, flesh magic to be precise," Serana put in, "I don't know to what end but the happenings are hardly benign."

"You'd be right then," said Wuunferth as he studied the first of the faded journals, "It seems he had his eye on poor Susanna for quite some time before she met her untimely demise. These entries here only confirm my own findings."

"And what findings would those be?" Emily asked.

"I believe there's a pattern to these killings," Wuunferth, "And now that we know for certain it is linked to a necromantic ritual I believe I can say with some certainty when the next killing will occur." He led them over to a chart which hung over the alchemy lab.

"Here I catalogued the time of death for each of his victims," he said, "Anyone who knows their Tallamancy, that is, the study of numbers and their magical properties, will note that each death occurred between the 3rd and 13th nights of the months of Morning Star and Rain's Hand."

"And what are the significance of these dates?" asked Emily.

"The period between the 3rd and 13th days hold special significance to necromancers," Wuunferth explained, "It is by no accident that the Witch's Festival is held upon the 13th of Frostfall, when the necromantic energies are at their peak. Nor is it coincidence that Tales and Tallows, a celebration of necromancy, is held upon the 3rd of Hearthfire." He gestured back to the chart. "As for the months, Morning Star is the Month of the Ritual which is associated with conjuration magic and the raising of the dead while Rain's Hand is the month of the mage which controls all magic both evil and benign."

"And he has to kill upon those days?" asked Serana.

"I believe so," Wuunferth replied, "Looking at these entries, I think he was getting desperate when it came to Susanna. So many times she eluded his grasp."

"So, what do we do now?" asked Emily. Wuunferth ran his eyes over the last entry before answering.

"I believe Susanna was a late victim," he said, "Her death was meant to come much sooner. These entries here regarding the failed attempts are dated three months ago, in Morning Star. When he could not kill her in the Tallamantic period in Morning Star, he had to resort to Rain's Hand. If he'd failed this month, he likely would have to start over." He turned back to the chart.

"Then, we've missed our chance, haven't we?" asked Emily, "We'll have to wait around for the next Tallamantic period." Wuunferth shook his head.

"No, as I said, Susanna was meant to be the victim of Morning Star," he replied, "He is a month behind and he's yet to claim the victim he had planned for this month. Who that is, I cannot say, but I believe I know where it will take place."

"Where?" asked Serana.

"The Stone Quarter," Wuunferth replied, "With many of the city guard relegated to patrolling the Gray Quarter, the Stone Quarter is lightly manned. Lightly manned and poorly lit. The perfect location for a killer to strike."

"Then, we need to hurry," said Emily, "He could be out there right now." Before Wuunferth could say another word she spun on her heel and sprinted off down the corridor. Serana bolted after her, catching up to her as they reached the stairs. The guard on duty at the base of the stairs sprung quickly to one side as the two vampiresses rushed past and watched, perplexed, as they disappeared through the door to the main hall.

They bolted from the Palace of the Kings, boots skidding on the icy flagstones and hurried off down the street.

The Stone Quarter lay just above the Graveyard. It was home to many of Windhelm's places of business, containing an apothecary, smithy and numerous market stalls. These had all been closed up for the night. The only sound that could be heard were their tattered tarpaulins flapping in the cold night air and the only light came from the dying embers of the smithy's forge. Emily and Serana slowed their pace as they reached the steps that led up to the Stone Quarter from the graveyard. They paused on the final step, peering in through the bars of the wrought iron fence.

"Do you see anything?" Emily asked in a whisper.

"Not a thing," Serana replied, "Come on. Looks like we're not too late." She led Emily in through the wrought iron archway that marked the entrance to the Gray Quarter. The strained their ears to listen as they crept towards the smithy. A short wall separated the Blacksmith's workstation from the rest of the Quarter, affording them a view of the square where they could avoid arousing suspicion.

"Now we wait," Emily said quietly, "We'll just have to hope someone in this city is foolish enough to come out here after dark." She caught Serana's gaze and quirked a smile. "Someone other than us I mean," she added. Serana smiled back.

"You have a plan then?" she asked.

"We need to capture him alive," Emily replied, "When it's bandits out in the wilds or rogue mages operating from secluded areas it's a different matter. We operated as vigilantes then. But here in the city, we need to let local law enforcement take the final action." Serana nodded. She stopped suddenly as she heard distant footsteps. Emily, it seemed, had heard them too for she had turned to peer over the wall. For several moments they waited, scanning the stalls. A movement caught Emily's eye and she turned to see a figure enter the square by means of the same gate that had come in through by. The dying embers reflected off of golden skin. A cowl was pulled low over her pointed ears to keep out the winter chill and she wore a faded beige dress. She crossed over to one of the covered stalls and pulled a wooden barrel out from behind it. It scraped across the frostbitten ground and she grunted with effort as she removed the wooden lid which was already coated in frost, making the task that bit more difficult. Bent low over the barrel she failed to see a figure waiting in the shadows. He blended in so perfectly that it was not until Emily saw the glint of metal in his hand that she spotted him. He crept towards his quarry on silent feet.

The barrel slipped suddenly on the frozen flagstones and tumbled over, causing the woman to mutter an oath and the shadowy figure to halt abruptly in his tracks. As she bent to retrieve the barrel he brought the knife up level with her neck. Emily's eyes widened as she leapt to her feet.

ZUN HAAL VIIK

The square echoed with the Thu'um and the woman spun around in time to see the man standing a mere two feet behind her. In that same instant the blade was ripped from his hand and skittered into the dark. She let out a yell and backed away. But the man's attention had been taken and he now turned upon the one who had shouted.

"So, it's you, is it?" he said, "Trying to meddle in my affairs? No matter, your flesh will make a much more welcome addition than the elf's. It really was a last minute decision on my part to use her at all." He ran at her then and Emily dodged to one side. This sent several wooden crates she had been standing next to toppling to the ground, spilling their contents. She scrambled back against the wall as he lunged at her again. She felt his hands grasp her about her throat and she tried to push him off, kicking out with her legs. His eyes burned into hers, a look of grim determination in them.

Then there was a flash of green light and the man froze, as if in surprise. His grip was vice-like and Emily pried at his fingers. A second pair of hands joined hers and with Serana's help they were able to pry him loose. As soon as his hold on her was broken to fell to the ground, stiff and board-like. Only his eyes moved, swivelling to fix them with a cold glare.

"Are you alright?" Serana asked.

"I'm fine," Emily replied, massaging her neck, "But vampire or not, being strangled is certainly not a pleasant experience." She looked at the stiff form of the killer and then over to the woman who was backed up against the stall. She still looked to be in shock and was staring at the still form of her would-be killer. Then her eyes met theirs.

"Are you alright?" Emily asked of the woman who nodded slowly. "You'd better go fetch the guards," she continued, "Tell them we have the Butcher." The woman nodded again before hurrying off into the gloom.

"What did you do to him?" Emily asked.

"A simple paralysis spell," Serana replied, "Come on, it'll not last long." She crossed over to one of the wooden crates and pulled from them several lengths of leather strips. With these they bound the man's hands tightly together.

"You were right when you said there was something off about him," said Emily as she examined the unmoving face glaring up at her. As she stood up they heard shouts coming from the end of the street. As they watched several guards in the Windhelm livery homed into view. Many were carrying torches and heading them was the Butcher's would-be victim.

"Over here," Emily heard her say, "He tried to attack me in the square when these two women disarmed him." The guards reached the frozen form of the killer. The paralysis spell was beginning to wear off and he lifted his head as the torchlight fell upon him.

"Calixto Corrium," said one of the guards, a note of surprise evident in his voice, "I never would have believed it." He looked at the two vampiresses.

"Helgird has a record of the prints recovered from Susanna's body as well as the ones found on the embalming tools found in Hjerim," Emily explained, "We need to take him to her to ensure they match his own."

"Very well," said the guard, "I've been told something of how you've both been helping with this investigation. We'll take him down there immediately." He turned to Calixto, giving him a sharp kick in the ribs with his boot. "You, on your feet."

With great difficulty Calixto regained his feet. His gaze drew level with Emily.

"My goal will be achieved, one way or another," he said, "It is I who will meet her on her plane instead. I know now I'm destined for the chopping block. It's a shame though. Your friend there had just the right kind of face I was looking for. Simply exquisite." These words sent a sudden fury coursing through her and before the guard could react Emily had drawn back a fist and punched the man squarely in the jaw, knocking him back to the ground.

"That's enough, citizen," one of the guards said in a warning tone, putting out a hand to stop her, "He'll get what's coming to him, rest assured." Emily stepped back and she felt Serana's hand rest gently on her shoulder.

They accompanied the guards and their prisoner down to the Hall of the Dead where Helgird awaited them. Ink and paper were brought and Calixto was made to dip his fingers in the ink before pressing them onto the paper. The match between them and the prints recovered previously was confirmed and he was escorted from the Hall of the Dead in the custody of three guards. The fourth remained behind to speak to the two vampiresses.

"Have no fear, he'll see swift justice," he said, "He'll be executed at dawn. You've done Windhelm a great service. Now, we've only the matter left of investigating his curiosities shop." He held up a single bronze key, holding it out to Emily. "I believe you two should do the honours."

Emily took the key from the guard and together they left the Hall of the Dead.

The Curiosities shop seemed twice as eerie to them than it had when they had last visited them. A search of the ground floor brought to light nothing except a few simple knick-knacks and personal effects. There was a small sum of coin that would now, along with the shop itself, become the property of the Hold. They were about to leave when Emily spotted a wooden ladder near the door. She climbed up the creaking wood, hand over hand, until she reached the top. Nestled in a dusty corner of the loft was a chest. This was locked but the key used to unlock the front door also served to unlock the chest. Inside were a number of embalming tools like those recovered from Hjerim as well as a tattered old book. Emily picked it up and flipped through it. Her eyes widened slightly as she read the words written there.

"I think we've finally unearthed his motive," she said as she re-joined Serana on the ground floor, "He was trying to resurrect his dead sister." She handed the book to Serana. She shook her head.

"A fool's errand," she said, "There is no way to bring back the dead. Not truly. Not in the way he wanted."

"How can that be so?" Emily asked, "What about us?"

"We aren't the dead brought back to life in the strictest sense," she replied, "Our souls never left our bodies during the process. To be truly considered to have been brought back from the dead, the person in question must die first, their soul depart this plane of existence and then be brought back to Mundus from the spiritual plane. Souls can be brought back but never to the state of living he was hoping for. She would be a spectre at worst or a shade at best. Neither of which are truly living."

They left the shop of curiosities and departed for the Inn. Elda was waiting for them by the bar.

"Is it true? That the killer has been caught?" she asked of them. Her tone was earnest.

"Yes, the guards have arrested him," Emily replied, "He'll be executed in the morning."

"Thank the divines," said Elda, resting a hand on the bar, "This nightmare is finally over." She pulled out two bottles of Honningbrew mead and two tankards, pushing them across the bar.

"Here, this one's on the house," she said, "You've both more than earned it."

"I guess word gets around fast," said Serana as she uncorked the bottle, pouring the amber fluid into the tankard. She stopped as they heard running footsteps on the wooden floor.

Sofie stopped before them. "You really caught killer?" she asked of them, "He's really gone?"

"Yes, he is now," Serana replied.

"Thank you so much," said Sofie, "You did it. You really did it. With the streets that bit safer I won't have to sleep with one eye open anymore."

"Actually, about that," said Emily, "Serana and I have been talking a few things over, Sofie. And if you'd like to come with us, you'd be more than welcome." Sofie looked at her, eyes wide in disbelief. For a moment she was silent.

"Y-you'd really let me stay with you?" she said at last. Emily nodded.

"Really?" said Sofie, turning to Serana, "You're not joking or anything?" Serana shook her head.

"Yes, you can stay with us," she said. Slowly a grin spread across Sofie's face.

"Th-thank you," she beamed. Then she hurried over to Emily and Serana, throwing her arms around them. Serana, clearly taken off guard by the sudden show of affection took a moment to respond.

"So, when do we leave?" Sofie asked as she stepped back.

"Tonight," Emily replied.


	8. Fang

"So, where do you live?" asked Sofie as they left the city gates of Windhelm behind. Masser was beginning its ascent over the Sea of Ghosts, casting a red glow on the crashing waves.

"We've got a cottage in the South Falkreath pine forests," Emily replied, "Overlooking Lake Illinalta."

"I think we'd better figure out some travel arrangements then," said Serana, "Arvak won't be able to take all of us." They passed by the stables and headed for the cobblestone road that led southward towards Kynesgrove.

"Who's Arvak?" Sofie asked.

"He's…our horse," said Emily, "Now, fair warning, he's a little different from most horses. But don't worry, he's lovely."

"Different how?" Sofie asked skeptically.

"He's kind of…" Emily paused, trying to find the correct words, "Well…boney."

"What Emily is trying to say, so very succinctly I might add," Serana continued, "Is that Arvak is an undead horse."

"Undead? You mean like a zombie?" asked Sofie. Her tone was one of faint apprehension. They had stopped at the edge of the road next to a small copse. "Where is he?" she asked.

"He's picketed in the trees here," said Emily, "People tend to get a bit spooked by him so we have to leave him out here." She turned to the trees and whistled. Sofie heard a snuffling snort from the shadows and the sound of grass rustling. A bluish-black nose peeked out from behind one of the trees. This was accompanied by two bright lamp-like eyes.

"Sofie, this is Arvak," said Emily. Sofie subconsciously took a step backwards.

"It's alright, he won't hurt you." Emily reassured her as she crossed over to where Arvak stood and held out her hand to the horse. Arvak nuzzled at her hand, nibbling at her palm as though searching for something to eat that she might have concealed there. Emily chuckled.

"No, Arvak, I didn't bring you any oats," she said softly, patting the side of his muzzle, "You know that kind of thing just goes right through you." Sofie chuckled a little at this last remark. Arvak looked over at her, nickering softly. "Come on," said Emily encouragingly, "Really, it's okay." Sofie walked slowly toward the skeletal horse who watched her with gently swishing tail of blue flame. He stretched out his neck as she got nearer and she reached up to pat his nose. He leant into her hand and Sofie smiled.

"He's…not scary," she said slowly. Arvak nickered again, taking a step forward and snuffling at her hair. Sofie laughed.

"So, how are we going to do this?" asked Serana.

"How about if Sofie and I take Arvak, you take the broom?" Emily suggested.

"Sounds like a good enough plan to me," Serana replied.

"What broom?" asked Sofie.

"This broom," said Emily as she removed the broom from her pack and it spun in her hand as the shrinking charm wore off, allowing it to regain its original size.

"Are you witches then?" asked Sofie.

"Mages," Serana corrected her.

"Aren't they one and the same?" Sofie asked hesitantly.

"No, witches are women in training to become Hagravens," Serana explained, "Mages are a lot more benevolent." She got astride the broom and kicked off from the ground, hovering a couple of feet from the earth.

"Wow, that's amazing," said Sofie, "How did you get it to do that?"

"Emily's the enchanter of us two," she smiled. Emily grinned.

"You say that so glowingly," she laughed, "And yet our first flight was anything but smooth."

"You still got us there in one piece," smiled Serana. Then she added as an afterthought, "If only just." Emily chuckled before turning back to Sofie.

"So, are you ready to go?" she asked. Sofie put her hands behind her back and nodded. Emily helped her up into the saddle and then got up alongside her, taking up the reins.

"Alright, Arvak, let's go home," she said. Arvak moved off at a trot and Serana flew low, keeping pace with them.

"Sera, I was thinking about the way back," said Emily, "We're going to have to take a little more indirect route this time."

"Valtheim?" said Serana by means of a response.

"Exactly," Emily replied, "Much too dangerous. We'll head up towards Ivarstead and go through the Haemar Pass."

"What's dangerous about Valtheim?" Sofie asked.

"Bandits," Emily replied, "Normally when we go through there we're on foot and we can take the detour that leads up past Guldun rock. And while I feel nearly certain Arvak here could outrun them, it would be much too risky."

"My father was once attacked by bandits," Sofie said as they crossed over the stone bridge that straddled the White River, "They attacked our farm and tried to steal our crops. My father went out and fended them off. He said they were a bunch of dark elf looters. That was why he went to join up with the Stormcloaks. He always said that foreigners were nothing but trouble."

Emily shifted uneasily in the saddle.

"And what do you think?" she asked.

"I…I don't know," Sofie replied, "I wish they hadn't come to our farm though. If father hadn't gone to join the Stormcloaks he...maybe he'd still be here.." Sofie's words trailed off and she fell silent. She brought up a hand to rub at one of her eyes. "Do you think they're all bad?"

"No, I don't," Emily shook her head, "You've heard of the Jarl of Whiterun?" Sofie nodded.

"Well, his housecarl is a Dunmer. Probably one of the bravest women we've ever met," Emily continued, "A dragon had been spotted out at the western watchtower and without a moment's hesitation she was ready to lead an attack on it."

"And did she?" Sofie asked.

"Yes, she gathered a group of men and we accompanied her to the watchtower where we killed the dragon," Emily explained. She sighed, "There's good and bad in every race. Once, I had my own preconceptions about a particular people." She glanced over at Serana who gave her a slight smile. "I thought they were all bad, out to kill anyone they met. But then someone very close to me showed me otherwise." Sofie was quiet for a few minutes.

"There was Luaffyn," she said at last, looking out as the scenery rolled by. They had turned off the main road and now followed a cobblestone track that led along the side of the volcanic tundra. A faint sulphurous smell hung in the air as the wind rustled the Jazbay plants that carpeted the earth. "She's the bard at the Candlehearth Hall. Once when some boys from the docks were pushing me around and calling me names, she came and chased them off. She told them if they ever came back she'd set a Nix-hound on them."

Time passed and the river that ran alongside the road dwindled from the swift-running swell they had crossed at the stone bridge to a shallow and slow moving waterway that tumbled over numerous grey rocks. Emily looked out across the leaden surface, squinting out across the river. As she did so Serana drew level with her on the broom.

"We'll need to find somewhere to shelter in for the day soon," Emily said quietly. She looked up at the night sky. To the east it held a pinkish hue which spread up from the horizon and the first few birds were beginning to chirp in the trees, signalling the approaching dawn. Sofie had dozed off in the saddle, resting against Emily's arm. Serana looked down at the water's edge. Her eyes drifted up the river, settling on something half hidden in the lee of the towering rock that made up the edge of the tundra.

"How about there?" she asked, pointing out over the river. Emily followed her gaze. Nestled there in among the reeds and bracken was a small wooden shack, barely more than a lean-to. There was a doorway but no door and there were several sizeable holes in the ceiling. A row of weed choked leeks grew up against one side and the rotting remains of two salmon hung from a rope above the door.

"I think it will need a little fixing up before dawn but it'll do," Emily replied as she steered Arvak down towards the riverbank. The water came up to just above Arvak's hocks, flowing around and between the bones that made up his legs. They crossed slowly for the riverbed was made up of a mixture of smooth pebbles and dirt. At last they reached the far side. Serana glided across the river after them and dismounted before leaning the broom against the doorway. Emily lifted Sofie down from the saddle and carried her inside while Serana disposed of the remains of the fish, throwing them into the river.

Inside the shack was supported by several wooden beams. Opposite the entrance was a fire pit over which hung an iron cooking pot on a spit and several cooking utensils. Only part of the floor had any proper flooring, consisting of crude wooden boards and one space had the added comfort of a weathered-looking animal skin stretched across it. A chair by the fire had been toppled and next to it lay a book. There were faint rust coloured stains on the wooden floor and Emily felt she did not have to guess at their make. Standing up against one wall was a shelf with a few clothes lying upon it while a wooden table stood against the front wall. Several books and an iron dagger rested upon it and leaning up against it were several wooden planks. In the other corner was a bed, furnished with animal skins. Sofie stirred as Emily crossed the threshold and looked around.

"Where are we?" she asked sleepily.

"A shack by the White River," Emily explained, "We need to rest here a while." Sofie yawned as Emily set her down on the bed. She sat up and looked around at the ramshackle hovel. Emily picked up the wooden planks and made for the doorway.

"Where are you going?" Sofie asked curiously.

"There are a few holes in the ceiling," Emily explained, "If there should be a storm sometime today, we'd best make sure we stay out of the elements."

She found a few nails on a workbench which lay outside the shack and set to work on the roof. The sky had paled considerably by the time she went back inside the cabin. Serana had started a fire in the grate and was cooking some of the leeks over the open fire.

"I'm afraid they might be a little burnt," she said as she turned them over on the flat rock, "I haven't done much in the way of cooking."

"That's okay," replied Sofie, "At least it isn't slaughterfish."

"Not fond of slaughterfish?" Emily asked as she sat down by the fire. Sofie shook her head, making a face of disgust.

"How about venison?" Emily asked, "Sera and I go hunting quite a bit and game is seldom scarce."

"I love venison," Sofie replied, "We didn't get to have it often, especially after the war started but father would sometimes go up into the hills near the city to hunt elk. No one hardly ever went up there."

"Why's that?" asked Emily.

"They said there were murderers lurking in the hills who would sacrifice anyone they found to a pillar of stone," Sofie replied, "And if they didn't find anyone to kill they turned on each other."

Serana dished up the leeks and handed the plate to Sofie.

"I think we'd better hunt tonight," she said as she sat back by the hearth, "I'll take some of the leeks with us but we could do with something a bit more substantial."

"How come you have to wait until tonight?" asked Sofie, a forkful of leek halfway to her mouth.

"Two reasons really," Emily replied, "Firstly, we're tired and secondly, with somewhere as remote as this, someone's got to keep on watch."

"I could keep on watch though," Sofie offered. Emily laughed.

"No, no, kiddo, you need your rest too," she replied, "Don't worry. As soon as we're on the road tonight we'll be able to hunt down a rabbit or two."

Shortly after putting down her plate, Sofie retired to the bed, leaving Emily and Serana to sit by the fire. As soon as Serana was sure the child was asleep she turned to Emily.

"Have you thought about when you're going to tell her?" she asked.

"Honestly I'm not sure, Sera," Emily replied, "I can't help but think of how Lydia reacted. And I don't think how we handled it with Lydia would work here." Serana shook her head.

"This…was why I had reservations, Em," she said gently.

"I know," Emily replied, "I just…felt sorry for her, seeing her out in the cold like that. No kid should ever have to live like that. Or anyone for that matter."

"I think we should at least wait until we're home," said Serana, "If we told her while we're on the road, she might run off."

"True," replied Emily, "And once we've told her of our nocturnal lifestyle, then there's the question of when I tell her the rest. About being dragonborn and an Earthling."

"I think one revelation at a time will be enough," smiled Serana, resting her hand on Emily's. Emily smiled, leaning against Serana's shoulder.

"You're right," she said quietly, "Maybe she'll be okay with it. I mean, she took to Arvak quickly enough."

The day passed slowly with only the shadows sliding across the floor to mark time passing. Sofie woke late in the afternoon and asked to play down by the river. She amused herself with skimming stones and paddling in the shallows. Emily and Serana, feigning tiredness, rested in the shade, taking turns to keep watch while the other dozed. Once again Emily felt strangely detached from the events of scarcely a week ago. Witnessing the dragon's resurrection at Kynesgrove and then slaying the same dragon seemed a strange juxtaposition to the quiet of the afternoon.

At last the sun set behind the mountains and they were free to leave the shelter of the cabin. When they set out Serana elected to remain on foot to take care of the night's hunting. Emily helped Sofie back up onto Arvak's back and they crossed the river once more, fetching up on the far side. As soon as they reach the cobblestones Serana took her bow from her back, searching the undergrowth for any signs of rustling.

They travelled at a steady pace and by the time the moons reached their highest point Serana had managed to shoot two rabbits. They were bound together and hung from a metal ring on her pack. Her hunting done, she kept pace with the two riders.

"How did you manage to see that last rabbit?" Sofie asked curiously, "There was so little light I could hardly see where the bushes ended and the cobbles began."

"I've done a lot of night hunting," Serana replied, choosing her words carefully, "Em and I, we're alchemists. One of the ingredients we use in our potions are wolves' eyes. And wolves tend to come out more at night."

"Have you ever seen a werewolf?" Sofie asked. Her eyes were like saucers as she posed the question.

"No, I heard tales about them though," she replied, "And about the werebears of Solstheim. Em and I rub canis root on the door frames of our home. It's supposed to keep them away."

"My father once told me there were weresharks in the sea of ghosts," said Sofie, "And that they would go after fishermen. They would tug on their nets to make them think they were heavy with fish and when the fishermen went to pull them in, they'd jump up and eat them."

"Well, I lived by the sea for years and thankfully I never saw one," replied Serana, "A few vicious-looking slaughterfish but no sharks, were or otherwise."

"Imagine a were-slaughterfish," said Sofie, her eyes widening still further. Emily chuckled.

"I'd sooner not, kiddo," she said, "I've had run-ins with regular ones before and they're bad enough."

"Like that one you told me about that tried to take a bite out of Finn?" Serana asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Who's Finn?" asked Sofie.

"He's my otter," Emily replied.

"You have a pet otter?" asked Sofie excitedly.

"Aye, and Sera has a pet bone hawk," said Emily, "Named Tibius. He's a little like Arvak here, being a bone hawk. But another gentle soul."

When daylight came they sought shelter in the mine at Darkwater Crossing. Sofie amused herself with climbing the scaffolding and exploring the tunnels lit only by the light of guttering candles.

Emily turned over, looping an arm around the vampiress. Serana turned her attention from the piece of fabric she was holding, looking over at the earthling.

"What's that you're working on?" Emily asked.

"Just a little something," Serana replied, "I'm not sure how it'll turn out yet." In her other hand she held a needle and thread which she was using to sew a seam into the fabric shape.

"Fox, wolf or dog?" she asked suddenly. Emily looked at her, perplexed.

"For what?" she asked.

"Never you mind," Serana replied, smiling, "Just choose."

"Ummm… wolf," said Emily after a moment's thought.

"Yeah, I think so too," replied Serana.

"I'm not even sure what you're thinking but good," smiled Emily. Serana laughed softly, putting aside the sewing momentarily as she turned over, putting an arm around the Earthling. The candlelight danced along the needle and flickered on the thread as she worked. Emily stretched.

"I know what I'm thinking of though," she said, rubbing at her back, "I'm thinking of our nice soft bed back home."

"Me too," Serana smiled, "Hey, do you have any tundra cotton left?"

"Plenty," Emily replied, reaching into her pack and pulling out a wodge of cottony white flowers, "How much do you need?"

"Not sure," Serana replied, "Let's start with a couple of fistfuls." Emily handed her the flowers and she set them to one side.

Serana worked steadily through the afternoon. A small wooden bowl lay at her side with a mixture of water and crushed yellow mountain flower petals lining the bottom. Trailing out of this were several lengths of thread, once white, now dyed a golden yellow, left to dry. She had plucked the downy heads from the tundra cotton and used them to stuff the fabric shapes she'd made. These she sewed together to form first the snout and head, the ears and then the body, legs and tail.

When night came and it was time to move on, Serana packed what she had been working on into her leather pack. They left Darkwater Crossing behind and followed the cobblestones back as far as the bridge. Over the bridge Emily saw the eerie lights glowing at the windows of the old tumbledown fort. She was immeasurably glad that their route would not take them back along that way. Her last encounter with the necromages there was still fresh in both her mind and Serana's. Instead they took the winding dirt track that led high up into the hills near Ivarstead.

The climb was steep, taking them between the stumps of trees which were half rotting and sported large clusters of bleeding crown and white cap. The route hairpinned back and forth, the sides of the path were steep and made for slow going. As such it was too steep for Arvak and so Emily had been forced to recall him before they began the climb. Before long Sofie was beginning to tire. At one point she stumbled, catching herself on Emily's arm.

"You okay?" Emily asked. Sofie nodded.

"Hey Sera, why don't you take Sofie on the broom for a bit?" she asked. Serana removed the broom from the pack and it spun in her hand, gaining its original size.

"Are you okay with flying?" she asked.

"Will we be going high?" Sofie asked. Serana shook her head.

"No, not high, just a couple of feet above the ground," she replied, "Besides, we can't leave Emily far. She'll get in trouble on her own." Sofie giggled.

"Oh, ha ha, very funny," Emily grinned.

Serana lifted Sofie up onto the broom and got on, getting it to hover a few feet above the ground. At first Sofie seemed not to trust the broom's ability to remain aloft and she clung tightly to Serana, watching the ground as it moved steadily beneath them. But as time passed she relaxed, looking out over the forested hills and watching the moons climb higher in the sky.

"How are you doing down there?" Serana said as she looked down at the earthling, "Not getting tired, are you?" Emily stuck her tongue out at her.

"Don't you tease me, Sera," she grinned, "Or you'll have to watch yourself later on."

"Oh really?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

Sofie laughed at the exchange of mock threats between the two.

At last they crested the hill and came to a shallow river which ran between and tumble over large grey rocks worn smooth by the coursing water. It tumbled over the rocky lip and down into the valley below, sending up great clouds of misty vapour. A few torchbugs drifted at the water's edge, bobbing to and fro and landing on the reeds for but a moment before drifting up again. The night air was still with scarcely a breeze to move it and the only sounds were of the water tumbling over the rocks, the distant roar of the falls and, quieter still, the droning of the torchbugs.

They followed the course of the river up towards Ivarstead, passing by rocky overhangs and hillocks dotted with coarse grasses. Sofie saw the trees change slowly from tall and stately pines to smaller specimens with bark that shone like silver in the moonlight and leaves of bronze that rustled gently in the slight breeze that came down from the mountain. Though she had been born far from it she knew it by name just as all Nords worth their salt did. This was the Throat of the World, the Monahven. High, near its lofty peak, she could just make out the monastery which blended in almost perfectly with its rocky surroundings, only its straight walls, turrets and towers telling of its manmade origins.

Ivarstead was little more than a hamlet, nestled at the bottom of the mountain, a resting place for those pilgrims who braved the seven thousand steps. Once they reached it they dismounted from the broom and followed Emily along the cobblestones to a squat building whose windows glowed orange with a welcoming light. There were still another few hours of moonlight left but not enough for them to cross the Haemar Pass and make their way down to Riverwood.

"Can we have something to eat before we go to bed?" Sofie asked as Emily pushed open the door and the orange light of the fire spilled out onto the porch.

"Sure," she replied, "Let's go see what they have." They made their way over to the polished wooden bar where the bartender stood.

"What can I get you?" he asked. His tone was tired sounding.

"A room and something to eat please," Emily asked, pulling out a small drawstring purse.

"Kitchen's closed but I think there's still some pheasant stew and some bread left over if you're interested," the bartender replied.

"Pheasant alright?" Emily asked. Sofie nodded.

"A bowl of pheasant stew and some bread please then," she said, dropping the coins into the waiting palm.

"You can have the two rooms on the left there," the bartender replied before plodding over to a large cauldron which bubbled away by the fire.

"Aren't you hungry?" Sofie asked.

"No, not right now," Emily replied, "I'll probably just have a mug of mead before bed." She turned to Serana. "You want anything, Sera?"

"Some Stros M'Kai rum if they have any," she replied.

The soup was brought and they sat by the fire. The soup was a little on the watery side but the bread was thick and crusty, making up for what the soup lacked in substance. Emily swilled the contents of her mug before taking a draught.

"Sera, you ever think we should build some apiaries in the garden?" she asked of her vampiric companion, "We could brew our own mead. I always fancied learning how to do that."

"Maybe in the summer," Serana replied, "Too cold right now."

"Mmm, true," said Emily, "Wonder where we'd get the bees anyway."

"There's a bee farm down near Riften I think," Serana replied, "Out on the lake. We used to ride past it."

"Is that what that was?" Emily asked, "I'd always assumed it was some sort of private estate." Serana shook her head.

"It's the supplier for the Black-Briar meadery," she continued.

"Worth a try," said Emily as she downed the last of the mead. She turned to Sofie.

"Come on," she said, "It's time you were in bed."

Sofie got up and followed the two vampires from the main room.

The small bedroom was furnished with a bed, a rickety-looking nightstand and a dresser. As Sofie got into bed Serana reached into her pack and pulled out a stuffed wolf made from scraps and fabric. It had two brilliant yellow embroidered eyes and a black leather muzzle. Emily noted the small hole at the edge of Serana's hood that was of the same material. She handed the wolf to Sofie.

"Here, I thought you might like someone to keep you company," she said. Sofie looked down at the wolf in her arms, speechless. Then she looked up, beaming at the vampiress.

"Thanks Serana," she said, "He's beautiful." She lifted the wolf up. "I think I'll name him…" Her eye caught the small embroidered white fangs that protruded from his upper lip. "Fang."

"An excellent name," smiled Emily as she pulled the covers up around her. Sofie hugged Fang to her, nestling down against the pillow. "Goodnight Sofie." She leant over and blew out the candle on the nightstand before turning to Serana.

"I guess we should get some sleep as well," she said, one hand lingering on the vampiress' arm. Serana smiled.

"Goodnight Sofie," she said as she followed Emily from the room.

"Goodnight, Serana, goodnight, Emily."

Sofie nestled down under the covers, hugging the wolf to her as she felt her eyes begin to close, soon surrendering to the quiet of sleep.


	9. Ahk'Raska

Emily awoke late in the afternoon. Serana was still asleep so she up and dressed quietly. Her throat was dry so she left the room with a small pouch of coin and made for the bar. The man behind the bar was conversing with a young woman who was holding a lute. She was expressing her dismay at her bardic endeavours but the man responded in tones that bordered on affection, asking her to reconsider, praising her musical talent. At last the woman smiled and conceded, agreeing to stay on at the Inn. The man turned when he noticed her and the woman returned to her place by the fire.

"Is there something I can get you?" he asked.

"A pint of ale please," Emily replied, handing him the coin.

He poured her a mug of ale and set it down on the countertop. As Emily sat there, sipping at the ale, she spotted a group of four Khajiit sitting at one of the tables.

"This one still thinks it's a bad idea," said one, a tabby female in steel plated armour, "The pass is treacherous and we would have to pass through that pile of rubble. A perfect place for an ambush if you ask me."

"And I'm not asking you, Nahleena," replied a white spotted male whose appearance reminded Emily of a snow leopard. His tail swished angrily once as he fixed Nahleena with bright blue eyes, "I am telling you."

"But Ra'Thetabe," persisted Nahleena, "It would take us only another day, maybe two, to go around-."

"Not…another…word," hissed Ra'Thetabe, speaking slowly and deliberately. He got up so he was leaning over the table, looking into Nahleena's face, his tail swishing. Another Khajiit, a large male with a mane of dark fur which gave him the appearance of a lion, rested a large hand on Ra'Thetabe's shoulder.

"Enough, Ra'Thetabe," he said in a deep voice that carried easily. The bartender looked up from the mugs he was cleaning. He saw the Khajiit glowering over the table at the other and came hurriedly out from behind the bar, waving his hands.

"Hey, hey, I won't have any fighting in here," he said, "You take that kind of thing outside, you hear?"

"Very well," said Ra'Thetabe after a moment. His tone was civil but his tail still flicked from side to side, "It is time we were on our way anyway."

With that they got up one by one and left the Inn. The bartender wiped at his forehead as the door closed behind the last one and returned to his work.

As night fell they left the Inn. The sky looked to be heavy with snow and they anticipated a blizzard before the night was out. Indeed, the first flakes were already starting to fall before they had even crossed the bridge that led out of Ivarstead. Sofie was wrapped up in some furs she kept in her pack, the same furs she had worn during her expedition into Dimhollow Crypt so long ago.

"Won't you need them?" Sofie had asked as Emily fastened the clasp on the fur cloak.

"I'll be alright," Emily smiled, "I've had time enough to get used to the cold. One time Serana and I flew all the way from Winterhold to Dragon Bridge on that broom of ours. And that was even before…" She stopped herself.

"Before what?" asked Sofie.

"Before…I had time to become properly acclimatised to Skyrim's weather," she replied.

As soon as they had crested the first hill Emily called forth Arvak and lifted Sofie astride his bony back.

"We'd better make haste," she said to Serana as she climbed onto Arvak's back, "The pass could be treacherous if this carries on much longer." Serana nodded and fetched the broom from her pack. Arvak set off at a canter and Serana kept pace with the two riders.

The lanterns that hung from posts at the side of the road swung to and fro under the breeze that was quickly picking up. Already the mountains that made up the pass were hazy, becoming obscured from view. Sofie shivered in spite of the warm furs and huddled closer to Emily.

They came to the crossroads and turned westward. At the crossroads were several large lumps of rock. Unlike those scattered across the birch forest these were evidently manmade, the last remnants of some ancient Nordic fane.

"Sera, do you recall reading anything about any ruins around here?" she asked.

"There was once a village somewhere around here," Serana replied, "Back in the second era, known as Nimalten. I doubt this is anything to do with the village itself but perhaps this is all that remains of the crypt where they buried their dead." Sofie shuddered at the thought.

"In Windhelm they buried the dead in the catacombs beneath the city," she said, "I was always too afraid to go down into the graveyard. I heard tales from the boys in the Stone quarter. About draugr, about dead bodies getting up and walking about and skeletons with bewitched bones that haunted the forest paths."

"I share your sentiment on draugr," Emily replied, "We've come up against them more than once."

"Fortunately," Serana added, "They aren't too bright."

"Where did you come up against draugr?" Sofie asked curiously.

"Ustengrav," Emily replied, "An ancient fane up in the marshes near Morthal. That was the last time either of us saw any draugr."

"What were you doing there?" Sofie asked.

"We're adventurers," Emily replied, "We'd been sent there to recover something. We weren't successful but we had a look around just the same."

"You didn't take anything from there, did you?" Sofie asked.

"No, I didn't think Arngeir, the man who sent us, would approve if we did," Emily replied.

The wind was howling in their ears as they reached the foot of the Haemar Pass. The snow already lay thickly here, the product of many a storm without a thaw in between. They passed by a small shack, barely more than a lean-to. Battered by the elements, it was a wonder it still stood. Out front there was what remained of an alchemy lab and a fenced off area at the back was choked by weeds and thorns.

Serana kept pace with them, occasionally scouting ahead to check around the next bend. The road hair pinned back and forth between great rocky cliffs which reached towards the heavens like the points of some great crown. The ground beneath Arvak's hooves had been worn smooth by numerous travellers but the tightly packed snow made for slow going. Emily spotted, in the gloom of the shadows, a small cave. It's narrow opening was bedecked with sharp-looking icicles which presented a potentially deadly challenge to any who might seek shelter. Sitting just outside it was a crate and a rickety-looking old handcart. The lantern that stood on the crate had long since gone out and the ice collecting at its base had rooted it to the spot. Emily looked up the road and saw that this was merely the halfway point and they had still higher to climb. Ahead of them she saw a shadowy shape pulling steadily away from them. A wagon perhaps.

As she was surveying the area ahead another sound cut through howling wind. It was a distant roar.

"Oh no," she said under her breath as she squinted into the blizzard. Over the top of the pass she saw a ragged black shape in the swirling snow.

"What is it?" asked Sofie as she followed Emily's gaze. Before Emily could reply there came another roar, much closer this time. It cut through the wind, grating against her ears. Then the great black shape dropped out of the sky like a stone, great taloned claws digging into the rocks on the edge of the pass. The shape she had seen ahead of them was suddenly lit up by a tongue of flame and Emily saw several figures silhouetted against burning wood, fleeing like ants from a flooding nest.

"Serana, get Sofie to safety," said Emily as she scrambled out of the saddle, "I'm going to see if I can help those people up there." She pointed to the burning wagon.

"But Emily," Serana protested.

"Please, Sera," Emily persisted, looking into the vampiress' eyes, "There isn't time." Serana looked as though she might say more for a moment. Then she leant forward.

"Be careful," she said as she drew back. Then she took Sofie by the hand and hurried towards the rocks that lined the edge of the road, hoping to find some small alcove or overhang.

Emily took to her heels, sprinting up the road towards the dragon. She saw two silhouettes, distorted by the shimmering heat haze, lunging at the great beast. Its eyes burned like hot coals and its hide was of green scale, great red thorny protrusions covering much of its body. It roared, the echoes shaking the very rocks, before unleashing another tongue of flame. Then its head jabbed forward with the lightning quickness of a snakes, picking up one of the two figures. Emily drew her dagger and she saw the other figure lunge at the dragon, a yowling bellow of rage filling his lungs. Emily joined the fray as the dragon spat out the limp form of the other. Their body, for in its mangled state there was no telling who or what it had once been, dropped into the snow where it made no move.

Her dagger pierced the dragon's comparatively soft underside and she leapt back as it jabbed its sharp head in her direction. The other figure, the large Khajiit she had seen earlier in the tavern, saw his opportunity and brought down his large steel greatsword upon the beast's neck. The dragon reared back, unleashing flame and blood from its open maw. Its snake-like eyes rolled forward, focusing on the two battlers and it lashed its tail against the rock, sending chunks cascading down into the valley below. Emily's eyes widened as she found herself staring into its flaming gorge. She hastily grabbed the arm of her battle companion and yanked him down to her side as she conjured a ward.

The flames licked over and around them, rippling across the surface of the ward and Emily felt pure terror rising within her as she realised the ward was all that kept her from instant death. But as quickly as it flared, the flame extinguished and the dragon was staring coldly at them, the fire dying on its bloodied lips. It lunged once more and Emily and her companion took off in opposite directions. The dragon's head instead butted against the rock and it recoiled. It turned its head to the left in time to see Emily come to a halt on a rock. Once more it opened its mouth and Emily saw her chance.

FO KRAH DIIN

Ice erupted from her mouth, flooding the dragon's sight with a white piercing light. It felt the flame within its body wither and die, its limbs turning numb under the onslaught. Its eyes rolled in its head as it listed to one side, crashing down among the rocks where it fell limp and its eyes, once red with rage, were now dull and lifeless. But the stillness did not last and the Khajiiti man watched as fire erupted anew and he raised his greatsword in readiness lest the beast should rise again. But the fire melted the scales of the monster, leaving it skeletal in form. He watched as the light from its body flowed from it to the woman he now stood before. When the light cleared he approached the stranger.

"What manner of magic was that?" he asked.

"That was the Thu'um," she replied, "We saw the dragon, my partner and I," she gestured over her shoulder, "and I came to help. My partner's over there with our daughter." These words gave the Khajiit pause and he turned away to the body lying in the snow. It was then Emily spotted two more bodies lying in the wreckage of the wagon along with the burnt remains of their horse. The Khajiit dropped to his knees by the still form, his ears flattened against his skull.

"Nahleena," she heard him say in an anguished tone, "My Nahleena." His great hands, large and powerful looking, touched the figure's face, closing the glassy green eyes with unimaginable care and gentleness. Tears leaked from his great amber eyes and slid down over his nose. Emily knelt by him.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, resting one hand on his shoulder.

"She was my mate," he said, "Now she has gone to Llesw'er, to the sands behind the stars. Oh Khenarthi, watch over and guide my Nahleena." Emily bent her head in sombre silence.

Soon after the dragon's demise, Serana and Sofie joined them. Emily got up when she heard their approach and walked quickly to where they stood.

"It's not a pretty sight, Sera," she said, "Three of them were killed before we could slay the dragon. Sofie stood behind Serana, trying to avoid eye contact with the grisly sight that lay before her.

"What will you do now?" Emily asked the Khajiiti man quietly as she turned back to him.

"I don't know," he replied, "My mate has gone, our caravan and all that was in it is destroyed. I have lost everything." Emily looked to Serana. Though they spoke nought their eyes said a great deal.

"If you wish, you could come with us," she offered, "We have a home in Falkreath. You could stay there until you decide."

"That is very kind of you," he replied, "I will bury my fallen comrades. And then I will be glad to join you."

One by one the fallen Khajiit were buried where they lay. The disturbed earth devoid of snow was all that was left to mark their presence. The Khajiiti man made a sign of respect at each grave and then he turned to the three travellers.

"I am ready," he said in a sombre tone. Emily nodded.

They spoke little as they left the Pass, making their way westward into Falkreath Hold. The fight with the dragon had slowed them down so they marked Helgen as their next place of rest. Sofie looked up at the great Khajiit as they walked, seemingly in awe, looking down quickly when he caught her gaze. His greatsword was now slung across his back in a leather scabbard. His attire was exotic, consisting of a cream coloured jerkin and blue jacket, white breeches tied with a sash and worn-looking dark boots.

At last they reached the ruins of Helgen. She recalled their last visit here which had culminated in the deaths of several bandits. The town was now the true definition of a ghost down: lifeless and empty. The Keep still stood and they ventured inside.

Once inside Emily lit a torch and wedged it into one of the brackets. Serana rolled out the bedrolls and Sofie sat down on one, clutching Fang to her chest.

"And who are you, who saved my life?" asked the Khajiit as he fetched several logs for kindling, setting them up in the centre of the stone floor.

"My name's Emily," Emily replied, "And this is Serana, and our daughter, Sofie. Who are you?"

"My name is Ahk'raska," he replied, "I am…" He stopped himself, "Or rather, I was, a caravan guard for Ra'Thetabe. My mate, Nahleena, and I, came here, seeking business opportunities. At first we thought we had found them. We joined a group of traders led by a Khajiit named Ri'Saad, running our trade between Rorikstead and Ivarstead, covering the smaller settlements. I wish now we had taken Nahleena's advice. She might still have been here." He fell silent then and Emily chose not to ask further.

She sat down next to Serana and Sofie.

"He's going to need some time," she said quietly, "We'd better give him some space for now." Serana nodded.

"We'd better get some rest," Emily continued, "We've still got a long way ahead of us."

"Emily?" asked Sofie.

"Yes, kiddo?" Emily replied.

"Please don't go off fighting any more dragons," Sofie said, still gripping Fang tightly, "I don't want you to go like father." Emily smiled.

"I can't promise that, Sofie," she said gently, "I've got a family to protect, you and Sera. And I'm not about to let anything happen to either of you."

"Next time though, I'm coming with you," said Serana, resting a hand on Emily's arm.

"And me too," Sofie added, hugging Emily tightly.


End file.
